Neither Friend Nor Foe
by ScarlettKate1013
Summary: Rachel has recovered from her injury and is making plans to fulfill the mission given to her by the President. Tom feels differently on the matter, and a heated argument ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Like my first little fic, this is just the result of a random little scene that cropped up in my head. I'm a music junkie, and this story also takes its title from the lyrics to a song – _Gravity_ by Sara Bareilles (lyric portion is at the end of this chapter). I've heard it hundreds of times, but I heard it the other day on the way home and I suddenly pictured Tom and Rachel while listening. To me, at least, that hallway scene made it pretty clear that Tom wants Rachel, but he doesn't really _want_ to want her. And I get that, I do. Plus, no matter what my shipper heart may want, it usually spells disaster for a show when the two leads get together too quickly (anyone remember _Moonlighting?_ ). But this is fanfiction, and we can play without worrying about troublesome things like that, right? That brings me to something else that I left out of my first story. I do not own _The Last Ship_ , its characters, plotlines, or anything at all that is remotely recognizable. I'm only borrowing the characters for a bit while we endure this longer than long hiatus. I promise to return them when I'm done in exactly the same shape that I snagged them in. There will be one more, possibly two more chapters to this, but I wanted to toss the first one out while I'm polishing the rest. Each remaining section will be titled from the lyrics of _Gravity_ , which, coincidentally, I don't own, either. I hope y'all enjoy this.

Thanks,

Kate

 _Neither Friend nor Foe_

When the door to Rachel's makeshift office flew open, it banged against the wall as though it had been forced open by a battering ram. In a manner of speaking, it had. Admiral Thomas Chandler, newly appointed Chief of Naval Operations, stood in Rachel's now open doorway, his face flushed crimson in pure, unadulterated rage.

His clenched fists and glacial glare boring holes into her body told Rachel that she was to be the unfortunate recipient of all that rage. She'd known when President Michener had come to her two days ago with his revised plan for her that said plan would not sit well with Tom. _Time to face the music,_ Rachel thought. Squaring her shoulders – an action that was still somewhat painful due to the damage inflicted by her would-be assassin's bullet – Rachel crossed her arms in front of her chest and prepared for battle.

"Good morning, Tom. To what do I owe the pleasure?" No reason at all that she couldn't keep a level head and extend civility, in spite of the pitch and roil of her suddenly nervous stomach.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" He roared and Rachel rolled her eyes in exasperation. _So much for level-headedness and civility…_

"Really, Tom, I'm doing my job. I should think that you, of all people, are familiar with the concept."

"Oh, I'm 'familiar' with the concept, Rachel. I'm also 'familiar' with the fact that not three weeks ago, you staggered to my hotel room door with a bullet hole in your shoulder!"

"For heaven's sake," Rachel muttered. "It was a flesh wound, nothing more! The little idiot who shot me was too blinded by his fanaticism to do any real damage."

"Real damage," Tom repeated in a perfect imitation of Rachel's clipped British accent. "When I opened my door, you could barely stand. You fell into my arms, and then you _passed out._ By the time I got you downstairs to Doc Rios, I was covered in your blood, Rachel. It was all over my clothes. My hands were red with your blood!"

What Tom didn't mention was that when he'd laid her out on a hastily cleared table in front of Rios, and the ship's doctor and Milowsky had gone to work on her, it had been the sight of her blood on his hands, the sticky feel of it already congealing between his fingers that had nearly done him in. Her blood had also been the catalyst that seconds later had spurred him into action, rapid-firing orders at his crew to secure the President, lock down the hotel and send for the helo to get Rachel, Rios and Milowsky to the _James._

But Tom wasn't planning on telling Rachel any of that, not now; perhaps, not ever. He preferred not to even think about that hellish night, if at all possible. He didn't want to remember how her bright red blood smeared on his hands and caked in the length of her hair had gutted him. She'd lain there on that table, deathly pale, the only proof of her continued survival the slow beat of the pulse in her neck. He didn't want to remember how he'd been ready to open up one of his own veins and pour his life's blood directly into her, on the off chance that he'd be able to save her, that he'd be able to call her back from the brink of death; that he'd not fail Rachel the way he'd failed Darien. And he most certainly did not want to think about how, in so many ways over the past few weeks, when he'd thought of his precious wife, more often than not, his traitorous mind had begun to summon Rachel's image instead.

It was that last situation that was gasoline on the fire of his anger, that only a few months after his wife's death, he was already thinking of another woman, and not just any woman, but _this_ woman. Rachel Scott both fascinated and infuriated him, in equal measure. She'd gotten under his skin, almost without his noticing, and he didn't have the first logical clue as to what to do about it. He only knew that he could neither pull away from her nor yet could he pull her closer, and he vacillated between the two urges – shove her away, from his body, mind and heart or yank her to him with every bit of his considerable strength and keep her with him, safe, tucked against his side. Somewhere along the way – between hunting monkeys for her and promising her a Bengal tiger if she wanted one - he'd appointed himself her personal guardian, but damned if she didn't fight him tooth and nail, defying him at every turn. Case in point, the piece of paper he now held in his hand. An Executive Order from President Michener, informing Tom that the _Nathan James_ would be leaving port tomorrow and taking Dr. Rachel Scott along with her. Their destination was the Port of St. Paul, the northernmost port on the Mississippi River, and they'd be making stops along the way to distribute the cure and establish points of contact to begin the painstaking process of rebuilding the United States of America.

Were Tom still the Captain of the _James_ , he'd not have such a problem with this scenario, but as CNO, he was landlocked. The _James_ was now captained by Tom's best friend and former XO, Mike Slattery. So Rachel was leaving him, leaving Tom behind, on what he still considered privately to be _his_ ship, and he had no doubt whatsoever that she'd be flinging herself headlong into every dangerous situation she encountered.

Even now, while he was fighting within himself, Rachel stood stoic across from him, arms still crossed protectively over her chest, regarding him with those cool, whiskey eyes of hers. She tilted her head slightly to the side, pondering him, and he was beginning to feel like one of her many slides he'd often seen her examining through her microscope. He gritted his teeth, blanking his features, carefully concealing his emotions, afraid he might have already revealed too much, tipped his hand too far, when the flame of fury caught in Rachel's eyes.

"Just who in bloody hell do you think you are?" She shouted so loudly that the small crowd which had gathered outside of her open door to watch the developing fireworks immediately disbursed, scampering away to find anything else to do and anywhere else in which to do it. She pushed past Tom and slammed her door so that the walls of her office, little more than a glorified cubicle located off of her lab, shook with the force of it. She turned back to Tom, pinning him to the spot with her eyes, and having locked him in her sights, she fired, holding back nothing.

"What gives you the right to come into my office, shouting down the rooftop about something that happened three weeks ago? I was shot. There's no need to remind me, Tom, I was there after all. The bullet passed clean through, leaving no bone damage. Immediate surgery was performed to repair a nicked artery, and I was given a transfusion. Two days later, I was on my feet, and beyond the need for the occasional dose of ibuprofen, I've been given a clean bill of health. Perhaps you'd like to review my medical file?" She'd crossed the distance of the little room so that she was standing nearly toe to toe with him, and Tom drew himself up to his full height. He was secretly pleased when she leaned away from him just a fraction of a centimeter. _Good,_ he thought. _It's about damn time that I made_ her _uncomfortable._

"Yes, you were shot, Rachel, and that is precisely my point. Rios told me he had to give you three pints of blood. You've got no business running all over the country. Your duty is here in St. Louis, working on the cure where you belong. It is far too dangerous for you to undertake a journey like this, and that is why you're going to call President Michener and tell him that you're very sorry, but he's just going to have to find another scientist to work in the war zones because you are going to stay here where it's safe, is that clear?"

Rachel blinked once in complete astonishment, scarcely able to believe the rubbish that Tom was spouting. She wasted no time in telling him so. "Again, Tom, I ask who you think you are to march into my office, trying to tell me what I can and cannot do? You're not my boss, we're no longer on board your ship, and you have absolutely no authority over me whatsoever. That paper you're holding came directly from your president, _your_ boss, last I checked. You already knew what he'd asked me to do before I was shot. It should come as no surprise to you that now that I've been cleared medically I'm going to do the job that was asked of me. But perhaps I overestimated your opinion of me. Perhaps you think that I'm the kind of person to just tuck and run when things get difficult. If that is the case, then please try and remember what I told you once before when I was still searching for the cure – I will do what has been asked of me, and I will not stop until I've succeeded. Is _that_ clear?"

Tom growled in frustration, barely able to restrain the urge to grab the pigheaded woman in front of him and shake her. Or kiss her. Or throw her to the floor and … _stop it, Chandler. That is the pathway to madness._ Instead, he turned his back on her and willed himself to be silent for a moment. When he next spoke, he was so quiet that Rachel had to step forward to hear him. Her front was almost flush with his back, and Rachel's fingers itched to stroke across the tension lines clearly visible in the set of his shoulders. To circumvent the disaster that would likely follow such an action, Rachel thrust her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and waited for him to continue.

"I'm just worried about you, Rachel, that's all."

"Tom," Rachel began, but she was interrupted when Tom went on speaking, his voice growing stronger and louder with each word.

"You can get into trouble faster than anyone I've ever met, and you're not exactly fluent in the art of self-defense. I set up boundaries on the ship for you, and you bowled right over them, without regard to what the consequences of your actions would be. You willfully endangered yourself on board the _Vyerni_ , you could've killed yourself when you injected yourself with the airborne cure, and God only knows what will happen to you when you leave St. Louis tomorrow. You can't even walk down the hallway of a hotel crawling with military personnel without getting yourself shot!"

He spun around to face her as he finished his rant, and Rachel stepped back immediately. She didn't want to be near him after the things he'd just said to her. But her brain didn't quite get the message to her legs, and she'd have wound up sprawled on the floor at Tom's feet, had he not reflexively reached out and grabbed hold of her upper arms. When he touched her, it was like touching a live wire, and for a split second, he contemplated yanking her against him and covering her mouth with his. It was only when she gasped and wrenched herself from his grasp that he understood he'd caused her pain. She was across the room in a flash, clutching at her shoulder, tears blurring her vision.

"Get out," Rachel spat. "Leave now. Please," she practically begged him. _Oh, God, you stupid nitwit,_ Rachel scolded herself. _You will_ not _cry in front of him._ But the tears were threatening, and Rachel wasn't sure that she could keep them at bay. Tom lowered his hands, but he made no other move to leave.

"Why are you treating me like this, Tom?" she asked and then the tears did spill down her cheeks, glistening like diamond drops in the fluorescent light of her office. Helpless, Tom started towards her, but she shook her head furiously and repeated her order for him to leave. "You've just told me that I'm a selfish twit who's caused you no small amount of problems since the day we met." She paused to swat at her falling tears. "So by all means, get the fuck out of my office, leave me alone to do my job, and you have my word that I'll never trouble you again."

Tom felt like a fool. This hadn't been his true intention. He hadn't wanted to _hurt_ her, not emotionally and certainly not physically. He'd just been so worried when he found out that she'd be leaving, and that worry had made him angry, and when he'd gotten angry, he'd flown off the handle and gone straight to the source of his worry. But now he'd royally messed up. Rachel was crying, and the sight was tearing out his heart. He had to find a way to make it right.

"Rachel, please," he began. "I'm sorry, all right? I just…this caught me off guard. I thought that after you were shot…I thought that you understood that it was just too dangerous for you to be out there on your own. There are still Immunes out there, and any of them could be lying in wait to try and take another shot at you."

Rachel laughed derisively. "And what, you thought you'd drop by and use your boyish charm to convince me to see things your way? You are the most arrogant, stubborn, boorish man that I've ever met, Thomas Chandler! The great Captain – excuse me, _Admiral_ – issues his orders and everyone should just salute and fall in line, eh? You know what's best for everyone, and we mere mortals should just be thankful that you deigned to bestow upon us your infinite grace and wisdom."

She'd stopped crying and was advancing on him, a fact for which Tom was both grateful and wary. He was glad her tears had stopped, but he wasn't altogether sure what he'd do if she were to get too close to him.

"Let me tell you a few things. I am neither helpless nor weak. I _can_ take care of myself when the occasion calls for it, a point which I believe was proven when I successfully managed to pass that damnable note and blade to you on the _Vyerni_ and again when I managed to get to your door after I'd been shot. If I'd stayed put outside my own door like some damsel in distress waiting on her knight in shining armor to come to her rescue, I imagine I'd bloody well have bled to death waiting on you to pull your head out of your ass and come looking for me!"

"And while we're being so honest and forthright with one another," she continued with barely a pause to draw breath. "Let's talk about whatever _that_ was outside of your hotel room, shall we?"

Tom crossed his arms over his chest and stood stock still at her words. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Rachel huffed, expecting that result, but hoping that she'd made him mad enough at last to provoke some honesty between them. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, and it terrifies you." She was right in front of him now. He could feel her warm breath ghost across his face, could smell the lavender scent of her hair; he was suddenly, painfully aware of how close she was and he just didn't know what to do. "Tell me, Tom, is it your fear that sent you running here today? Or was it something else?"

Tom, for his part, wouldn't meet her gaze. He fixed his eyes on some distant point of interest over her shoulders. Rachel pressed onward. She was leaving tomorrow morning, after all, and wouldn't be back for months. She had nothing to lose. "I think that you're very afraid, not of what might happen to me, but of what might happen to you because of me. You're afraid to let me out of your sight, yet you don't exactly know what to do with me, either. How am I doing so far?"

Finally, Tom brought his gaze to hers, in control once more. "I was concerned, Rachel. I was worried for someone whom I consider to be part of my team. You're very important to me, and I don't want anything to happen to you. I apologize if I offended you. That was not my intention." His words were stiff, staged, even to his own ears, and he knew Rachel would never buy it.

"Tom, tell me something, please. Why were you by my side, when I came to in sick bay?"

Tom's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, where else would I be?"

"A thousand other places, one would surmise. Why on earth would you be the one watching me wake from a morphine induced sleep? Bertrice told me that you stood outside the door of the surgery during my operation and that you didn't leave my side until I woke up two days later. She said that you held my hand; that you talked to me. I just want to know why, Tom. You say that I'm important to you, that you're concerned for my safety. But as soon as I was released from sick bay, you disappeared. I've not seen you for two weeks. I've sent messages to you, I've gone to your office, I've even gone to your house, but I always seem to be a step behind. You've been avoiding me like the plague, and yet here you are, all put out because I'm leaving. It doesn't make any sense!"

Tom was in complete and total agreement with Rachel on this. Nothing made sense to him, not his behavior towards Rachel, not his feelings about her. It was all out of control, and if there was one thing that Tom relished about his personal character, it was his ability to maintain cool under pressure and take control of any situation. But since the day Rachel had finally revealed the truth to him about her mission, about _their_ mission, the beautiful lady doctor had been the one pulling the strings while Tom danced to the tune she played.

She was so close to him now. He could have her in his arms in a split second, could cover her mouth with his, bend her backwards over his arm and thoroughly palm and plunder her the way he'd been fantasizing about for longer than he'd care to admit. God, he was so tempted to do just that. He'd toyed with the idea, that night they stood outside his hotel room. He'd wanted to ask her in, been so close to asking her to his bed, but he'd held back, not ready to let loose his grief over Darien. It hadn't been long enough, he'd told himself, and he'd stepped back at the last. When Rachel had walked down the hallway, away from him, the swing of her hips had held him enthralled, and he'd called out to her to come and find him when she returned.

When he'd heard her muffled knocking half an hour later, heard her mumbling his name, he'd thought she'd come back to him, he'd thought it was a sign that maybe it _was_ time, that maybe, in this harsh new world they were trying to live in, it was all right to take the happiness he might find in a life with Rachel. But then he'd opened the door to his own personal hell because Rachel was panting, not in passion, but in pain, clutching her right shoulder, and blood had been everywhere.

Rachel sighed heavily, stepping back from Tom, and her actions drew him from his ruminations.

"Tom, I'm sorry, but I really need for you to leave. I can't do this with you. I can't fight with you when I'm not even sure what we're fighting over. I've got quite a lot to do in preparation for tomorrow, and clearly, we're at an impasse."

"Impasse, what, Rachel, no," Tom protested, but Rachel had made it to the door and was now holding it open. "Rachel, listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you; I didn't mean to make you think I was mad at you or that I don't care for you. I do. I do care for you." _You have no idea how_ much _I care, Rachel._

Rachel sighed again. "Tom, please stop. I've not got the strength, frankly."

"But, Rachel, I thought," he trailed off helplessly still unable to just tell her the truth. Even now, when she was throwing him out on his ass, when he was afraid he might not get another chance, he just couldn't tell her how he felt. He, Thomas Chandler, American hero, was scared shitless about his feelings for the petite woman in front of him. He was scared to take her, but he was terrified to let her go, when the pitiful truth was that she wasn't really his to do either with.

"What, Tom, what did you think?" Rachel asked bone-weary of whatever it was they were doing to one another.

He didn't answer at first, and when he finally did, it was to ask pitifully, "Are we all right?" At her bewildered expression, Tom rushed ahead. "I mean, you're leaving tomorrow. I don't know when you'll be back, when I'll see you again. I just, I don't want to…Christ almighty, why am I stumbling all over this? Look, Rachel, what I mean is, you're my friend, and I don't want us to say goodbye while we're fighting. We are friends, right?" He sounded desperate, even to his own ears, and he was. Rachel could see it etched in every line on his face. But as much as she'd like to reassure him, she couldn't. She knew what she wanted, and she'd thought that she'd known what Tom had wanted. Now, she only knew that she had to protect herself, even if it was from him.

Rachel smiled, but it was a bitter thing, and it created sharp lines on her face and even sharper lines on his heart. "We aren't friends, Tom. I don't know how I'd label us exactly, but we're not friends. Now, please, leave."

Unable to do anything else, Tom complied. Rachel stood watching him, willing him to turn around, just once. She'd eviscerated him with her declaration, but he'd broken her to pieces with his, and now she didn't think anything could put them together again. But if he turned around, she'd be able to leave tomorrow with something akin to hope in her demolished heart, that maybe with enough time and space between them, they would heal from their respective wounds and that when she did come back, she'd find him, as he had urged her to do on that now fateful night outside his hotel room.

But Tom didn't turn around.

He didn't even slow down.

And Rachel closed the door to her office, sank to the floor and cried.

End part one...

 _Gravity_ by Sara Bareilles

 _Something always brings me back to you.  
It never takes too long.  
No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone._

 _You hold me without touch.  
You keep me without chains.  
I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your reign._

 _You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.  
When I thought that I was strong.  
But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone._

 _I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you're everything I think I need here on the ground.  
But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go.  
The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down._

 _Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.  
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.  
But you're on to me and all over me._


	2. Chapter 2 - Learn From Our Mistakes

Author's Note – Hang on, let me check, nope, still don't own anything, _The Last Ship_ and all its characters still belong to TNT and other people who are not me. The title to this comes from another Sara Bareilles song, _I Choose You._ The lyrics are located at the end. I'd not intended to use this particular song until the final installment, but I started writing and here we are. Many, many thanks to the lovely **Scousedancer** who offered to beta for me and made some wonderful suggestions that contributed to the final product below. She's also been kind enough to endure a myriad of rambling emails from me

Finally, to everyone who favorited, followed and/or left reviews, you have absolutely blown me away! I decided to this for a lot of reasons, but I really never expected to get this kind of reaction to it, and I want you to know how very much I appreciate each and every one of y'all!

 _Learn From our Mistakes_

Tom sat in the front porch swing, sipping a beer and thinking of all the different ways in which he'd screwed up with Rachel. She probably hated him now, and even if she didn't, she'd be gone tomorrow, with no regular means of communication and no definitive return date. _If anything should happen to her…_ Tom didn't even allow himself to finish that thought, else he'd leave the beer on the porch and return to the house for the bottle of _Jack Daniels_ that Mike had given to him after Tom had presented Mike with his new commission. _Can't drink the hard stuff at 2:00 in the afternoon old man - not even on a Sunday._ But a Sunday afternoon beer he could justify so he finished the first and pried the cap off the second by using the swing's arm as a bottle opener.

He leaned back against the swing and closed his eyes, Rachel's final words on constant replay in his memory. That was how Jeter first saw him when he came down the sidewalk towards Tom's house. Russ didn't really believe that his former Captain was asleep, and at the sound of his footfall on the path leading up to the porch, Tom's eyes did indeed open. He straightened up in the swing and Russ stopped in his tracks, saluting Tom out of habit.

"Good afternoon, Admiral."

Tom offered his hand to Russ with the first genuine smile that had graced his face all day. Russ grinned as well as their handshake migrated into a backslapping hug.

"Old habits die I hard, I guess," Russ offered. He'd put in for retirement the day the ship landed in St. Louis, and his request had been approved by Tom a few days later. Russ's in-laws had settled into a house a few streets over, and Russ had moved in with them. They needed each other, and Tom was happy for his friend. Russ was even contemplating the offer of a ministerial position at one of the local Baptist churches. Several of the smaller congregations had combined forces during the Red Flu, and the remaining pastor had succumbed to the Flu just before the _Nathan James_ had made landfall. When so much of the man's life had been marked by sadness and tragedy, the fact that Russell Jeter could exist in any state of contentment was a marvel for Tom. He gestured for Russ to have a seat and offered him a beer, but Russ waived it away, settling his lanky frame into the chair opposite the swing.

"So what brings you by, Russ?" Tom asked genuinely surprised that his friend had turned up for a visit.

Russ folded his hands together and regarded Tom for a long moment before replying, "I don't really know, Tom. I was hoping you could tell me."

"Is there something I can do for you?" Tom asked. "Do you and the Morris's need anything to help you get settled?"

He wasn't exactly sure what Russ was getting at, but he had a suspicion that it just might have to do with him, with the way his old friend continued to study him. He had the sudden wild thought that community gossip about his argument with Rachel had somehow reached Russ's ears.

"No, Tom, but as we were leaving church today, I was struck by the strangest sensation to come and see you. Now, I have to be honest, I tried to ignore it," he said with a smile. "Sonja fixed chicken and dressing for dinner today, and I sure had my mind on it all through the service this morning. But I needed to stay to go over a few things with the Board of Deacons, and I sent Henry and Sonja on home. When I finished my meeting, I started for home, only to find myself coming up your street instead. If you don't mind my saying so, you sure look like you have a lot on your mind. What's going on, Tom? Is it something with the children or your father?"

Tom shook his head, but didn't elaborate.

"I see," Russ stated knowingly. "Then maybe it's got something to do with a certain British doctor who's got you running in circles."

Tom looked up sharply, and Russ had to laugh at the surprised look on the man's face.

"Come on, Tom," Russ gently chided him. "We've known each other how long now, ten years? As good as your game face is you can't fool me. Now why don't you tell me what's going on."

Tom took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose, picking at the label on his beer bottle and recounted the entire confrontation he'd had with Rachel earlier that morning. To his credit, Russ only listened, never trying to interrupt.

"So that's it; she's leaving tomorrow, and she hates me. I blew it, Russ, end of story," Tom sighed, despair written all over his face.

"At least now I know why the Lord impressed on me so hard to come and check on you. You've certainly gotten yourself into a mess. The question is how are you going to get yourself out of it?" Russ queried softly.

"I don't have a clue," Tom admitted. "But I'm open to suggestions."

Russ leaned back in his chair, his thoughts turning inward, sending up a quick prayer for guidance.

"I think the first thing you need to do is be honest with yourself, Tom. And don't sit there and act like you don't know what I'm talking about, either," Russ preemptively halted the protest he knew Tom was preparing. "You're in love with Dr. Scott, Tom. It's pretty obvious, too, at least to everyone besides you and the good doctor."

"I'm not in love with Rachel," Tom objected. "I _can't_ be. Russ, Darien's only been gone five months. I'm not in love with Rachel. I care about her, yes, of course I do, but no, I'm not in love with her."

Privately, Russ felt as though Tom were protesting just a bit too much.

"I loved my wife. Darien was everything I ever wanted." He smiled, reminiscing. "We met at a ball at the Academy during Commissioning Week; did I ever tell you that?" Russ shook his head and Tom continued, "She was a freshman at the University of Virginia, and her cousin, Alan, was in First Class with me that year. She came to the ball as his escort. Man, she was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. I saw her across the room, and I had to meet her. We spent the entire night just walking and talking. We watched the sunrise over Chesapeake Bay, and I knew that she was the one for me. We were married three months later, just before my first six-month cruise. She was 18 and I was 22."

"I never even thought about another woman, Russ. I know that may sound hard to believe, but it's true. Yes, I'd see attractive women and think that they were just that – attractive. But I never gave even a passing thought to actually cheating on my wife. I was faithful to her, and now…" Tom trailed off lost in thought.

"Now what?" Russ prompted.

"Now, I feel like I'm being unfaithful to her," Tom finished in anguish.

"May I ask you something?" When Tom nodded, Russ's next question caught Tom a little off guard. "When you and Darien exchanged vows, did you promise to be together forever?"

A little bewildered, Tom shook his head.

"Then what did you promise?" Russ asked careful to keep his voice neutral.

"To love and keep one another in sickness and health, richer or poorer, better or worse, to forsake all others until death do we part." Russ joined him in reciting the last four words. "Look, Russ, I get what you're trying to tell me. I know that technically I'm 'free' to be with someone else. But it's only been five months! How can I turn my back on 18 years' worth of marriage after only five months?" Tom protested in anguish.

"I'm curious, Tom, why do you feel you'd be turning your back on your marriage if you were to explore the possibility of another relationship?" Russ asked gently.

"Because, Russ, it's my fault that she's dead!" Tom shouted. "I couldn't get to her in time, I wasn't fast enough, I didn't push hard enough, and she died. My children had to watch their mother die."

Russ's heart went out to his former Captain, understanding all too well the pain that Tom was feeling and stated emphatically, "Tom, I am sorry for what happened to Darien, but you have to see that it's foolish to blame yourself. Believe me when I tell you that."

"But I promised to take care of her, and I failed her. She begged me to come home in that video feed that she and my dad got out to me. She begged me to finish my mission and come home, and I didn't, Russ. I let her down." Tom shot back, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"You did exactly what your wife asked of you. You finished the mission that had been assigned to you, and you came home and saved your family. Darien would be proud of you. She is proud of you! If ever there were a candidate for heaven, it's Darien, Tom, and she's surely looking down on you now and wondering why you're tearing yourself to pieces over something that was never within your control." Russ returned, his tone firm, his gaze never wavering from Tom's. Deciding quickly that a bit of Devil's advocate might be in order, Russ proposed an alternative.

"Let me ask you another question, Tom. Do you blame Dr. Scott for Darien's death?"

Tom's immediate expression suggested that he thought Russ had just lost his mind.

"What the hell kind of question is that, Russ? Of course, I don't blame Rachel for Darien's death!" Tom exclaimed incredulously.

"Why not; seems like to me she'd be the logical place to lay your blame if you're in the neighborhood for a scapegoat. She and Dr. Tophet were the only two who knew the truth of what was happening and they kept it from you until the Russians dropped in on us in the Arctic. Maybe if she'd told you sooner, you could have helped her more. Maybe she could have discovered the cure faster, and you could have gotten the ship to Baltimore earlier."

"Russ, that's crazy!" Tom's temper was beginning to flare. "My God, even if we had gotten to Baltimore earlier, there's no guarantee that I would have heard my dad's transmission. It was shear, dumb luck that I even raised him on the radio when I did. I would have headed straight for Dad's cabin if we'd arrived any earlier, and I might have missed them altogether. No, in no way do I blame Rachel for Darien's death, Russ. That's the most preposterous thing I think you've ever suggested to me."

Tom fell silent, then, understanding dawning on his face.

Outwardly nonchalant, Russ shrugged his shoulders, but inside, he cheered. _Hallelujah!_ Maybe, just maybe, Tom was beginning to see the light. If he could just keep him on the path a few more steps, Tom might have a different view of things.

"You're right," Russ was quick to agree. "You know what I really think? I think that the only person truly to blame in all this is Nils Sorenson." Tom's countenance predictably blackened at the mention of the Sorenson's name. "And the way I see it, he's already been judged by a far greater power than you or I, and I'm not talking about Dr. Scott, either."

Another sigh and Tom lowered his face into his hands, his head suddenly heavy with the new thoughts that were beginning to take shape. Russ leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees so that he could be closer to Tom. He pitched his voice gentle and low and asked a simple, yet profound question.

"Tom, do you really believe that Darien would want you to grieve yourself like this?" When Tom made no move to answer, Russ kept talking. "You deserve to be happy. Darien would have wanted it that way. She'd want her children to have a mother who would love them the way she did, who would help you finish what you and she began in shaping their lives. She'd want you to have someone to lean on, to draw strength from."

Tom raised his head slowly and asked, "Why didn't you ever remarry, Russ?" There was no malice in his question, just genuine curiosity.

Russ didn't hesitate to answer. "Honestly, I've never taken the notion to. I told you before the trials, remember, how I just threw myself into the Navy as a means of healing? My folks had passed years before, and when I lost Eliza and our girls, I lost my in-laws, too. The Navy became my family, and I found a purpose within that family, a calling, and it's been very fulfilling. I drew closer to God, and to this very day, that has been more than enough for me. I am perfectly satisfied with my life, and now that my relationship with Henry and Sonja has been restored, I'm happier than I've been since before the accident. But Tom, you'll have to forgive me when I say that I don't believe for a second that you're going to find that same kind of satisfaction if you tried to live the rest of your life alone."

"Russ, I'm not saying that I'm going to live out my days alone. I'm just saying that it's too soon right now for me to have these kinds of feelings." Tom replied, but Russ could hear the lack of conviction in his words.

 _Praise the Lord,_ Russ thought. _We're_ finally _getting somewhere._ "What feelings, Tom? Your feelings for Rachel, you mean?"

"I find myself thinking about her more and more. The night she was shot, she came to my hotel room. She was going to leave me something for the President, slip it under my door, but I got there at the same time she did." Tom paused for a moment, his mind recalling the image of her standing in the hallway, curls in her hair and lace on her curves, and Russ was amazed at the change that had overtaken his friend.

Now that he thought about it, Russ realized that when Tom had turned up in the lobby of the hotel with Dr. Scott's unconscious form, Tom had offered no explanation as to how he'd found her, beyond stating the obvious - that she'd been shot and had passed out on him. Now he found himself wondering exactly what had transpired between the two of them.

"She told me she was leaving the next morning, on Michener's orders and with one of his pardons in her name. God, she was so smug, and I was…captured by her. She was relaxed, carefree, more so than I'd ever seen her, and I told her how great her dress was. That smile she gave me – Russ, in that moment, seeing her like that, it was like I was waking up from a long sleep, and all I wanted was to keep talking to her. I wanted to take the time to get to know her, find out everything about her, tell her everything about me, and I wanted…I wanted… _her_. I wanted Rachel, right then, in that moment, and I was about to ask her, Russ. I was going to ask her into my room, and the light caught on my wedding band and I froze. I wasn't ready to let go of Darien.

"Rachel sensed I was getting uncomfortable and we exchanged a few more words before she said 'I'll see you when I see you' and walked down the hallway. I couldn't let her go with that, though, and I told her to be safe and to come find me when she got back." Tom finished, his voice tender, almost loving.

"What happened next?" Russ wondered still curious as to how Tom had ended up with Dr. Scott after the shooting.

"I went into my room and sat down on the bed for the longest time, staring at my wedding ring; thinking of Darien and what my life was like now without her. God help me Russ, but I started thinking about what my life _could_ be like with Rachel, and for just a few seconds, I let myself imagine leaving my room and going to Rachel's, just to see if I could get one more of those smiles out of her. Then, I heard a knock on my door and I heard Rachel calling out to me. I really thought for second that it was a sign from God or the universe or something that it was okay to go ahead and move on" Tom paused, before continuing. "When I opened the door and saw all that blood, I was absolutely petrified that I was too late, again. I couldn't save Darien, Russ, and I thought I wouldn't be able to save Rachel, either. That night was one of the longest of my life."

"I know that you stayed outside the room during her surgery and that you sat with her until she woke up," Russ commented.

"I did," Tom replied, the fear and sorrow he'd felt that night rushing to the surface once more. "When I was finally able to sit with her, I held her hand and I talked to her about nothing and everything, and the whole time I kept telling myself, 'When she wakes up, I'm going to tell how I feel about her.'"

Sensing the breakthrough that he'd been hoping for, Russ asked, "How do you feel about Dr. Scott, Tom?"

Tom met Russ's gaze, and Russ literally could see the doubt falling away from his friend's eyes. "I love her, Russ. I'm in love with Rachel." A joyous grin took over Tom's face and Russ couldn't help but mirror it with one of his own. He clasped Tom's shoulder, squeezing it affectionately and said. "I'm happy for you, Tom, but don't you think you ought to tell Rachel now?"

Tom's face fell. "Russ, I'll never get her to listen to me, not now. Jesus Christ, the things that I said to her, the way I treated her. You remember how she was with us all in the beginning – kind of walled off?" Russ nodded. "I could see those walls come back up when I left her this morning. She's not going to give me the time of day, much less believe me when I tell her that I love her."

"Why do you think you couldn't just tell her what was really going on this morning? Why pick a fight with her?" Russ had his suspicions, but he felt it was important for Tom to give voice to his feelings.

"I actually hadn't even meant to go in the office today. Dad and the kids are supposed to arrive on Wednesday, and I'd planned to spend the morning getting a few things finished in the kids' rooms. Then I was going to spend as much time in the office between tomorrow and Wednesday so that I could be with the kids and Dad for a couple of days. But then Lt. Foster called me with a copy of the President's order." He'd asked Kara to head up his staff for him through the duration of her pregnancy, and thus far, they were both happy with the arrangement. Kara was the best TAO he'd ever had on ship, and she was equally as brilliant running point for him in this new landlocked world of Naval administration in which they found themselves. 

"When I read the order, I saw red, and I flew off the handle. Honestly, it was easier her to yell at her than it was to face my fears and uncertainties. I'd been avoiding her since she recovered, and losing my temper was just a way to mask what I was really feeling," Tom stated, truly understanding at last what had caused him to behave the way he had with Rachel.

"That you love her," Russ couldn't help but want Tom to reiterate his earlier revelation.

"That I love her," he confirmed, and in that instant, all of Tom's doubts and uncertainties fled away. "Now, I've just got to convince her to listen to me for five minutes without throwing something at me," he added with a chuckle.

"Well, if you don't think you can get her to talk to you, why don't you write her a letter?" Russ suggested. "As I recall, a well-timed love letter kept me off the couch many a night." The men shared another laugh.

"You know what, Russ? I think you're exactly right. A letter might be just the ticket to get Rachel to listen to me. Will you excuse me?" Tom asked, and Russ was pleased and proud at his hopeful countenance.

"Say no more, Tom," Russ said already rising to his feet. "I'm gonna head on home and get that chicken and dressing. You start writing that letter and get yourself back in your lady's good graces."

Tom watched his friend walk off before turning to gather his empty bottles and the rest of the discarded six-pack. He quickly and efficiently put things away in the kitchen and then located a notebook and a pen from the stack of school supplies he'd gathered for the kids in preparation of them starting school in St. Louis within the next week. Sitting down at the kitchen table, Tom began composing his love letter to Rachel.

 _We are not perfect, we'll learn from our mistakes_

 _And as long as it takes I will prove my love to you_

 _I am not scared of the elements, I am underprepared_

 _But I am willing…_

 _I Choose You_ by Sara Bareilles


	3. Chapter 3 -Without Touch, Without Chains

Author's Note – nope, still don't own anything. I want to thank you all again for all the reviews, follows and favorites. A special thank-you to **Scousedancer** for the super-quick beta job she did, and for supplying Tex's last little bit of dialogue. It stopped me from running around in circles and got me back on the right path. Oh, and we're back to _Gravity_ this time for our title. The lyrics are at the bottom.

Thanks,

Kate

 _Without Touch, Without Chains_

"All right, ladies, I do believe that's the last of it," Tex declared as he lowered a large black suitcase into what was now Bertrice's bedroom.

"Thank you, Tex," Bertrice replied and lifted the suitcase onto the bed in order to make it easier to unpack. "And I want to tell you again how much I appreciate you and Kathleen allowing me to stay with you."

"No thanks necessary, darlin'. You're more than welcome. Besides, you can help Kat keep an eye on me," he joked.

"Excuse me, but shouldn't that be the other way 'round?" Rachel called from the bathroom where she was stowing all of Bertrice's toiletries. They'd been fortunate in St. Louis to be able to stock up on all of the essentials and even a few little luxury items. She'd enjoyed a bit of shopping spree with the girls earlier that afternoon, and it had gone a long way to helping her shake off the bleak fog of her morning.

"Aw, relax, Doc," Tex answered. He stepped over to the open doorway and snagged Rachel by the hand, playfully dragging her into his arms. "You gotta loosen up, have a little fun. After all, you'll be stuck on that ship come tomorrow, only this time you won't have me around for comic relief."

Rachel clapped her hand to her chest in mock despair. "Whatever shall I do? I can't even begin to fathom how I shall manage!"

Kat and Bertrice rolled their eyes at the adults' antics, but truthfully, they were just happy that Rachel was smiling. When the girls had met Rachel at her office that afternoon, it was obvious to both young women that Rachel had been crying. But she wouldn't tell them what had her so upset, insisting they keep to the plan to go shopping, meet Tex and move the last of Bertrice's belongings into Tex and Kathleen's. Bertrice had her suspicions, though and planned on sharing them with Kat at the first opportunity. Even though the girls were a few years apart in age, they'd become thick as thieves upon their first meeting and had been inseparable ever since.

"Jeez, Doc, you sure know how to break a man's heart," Tex whined. "You could at least _pretend_ like you'll miss me, you know."

Rachel spun in his arms and batted her eyes coyly at him. "I'll cry into my pillow every night."

"I knew showing you _Gone with the Wind_ was a mistake," Tex grumbled. "Kathleen, that one is going back in the trade box!"

"Oh, no it isn't, Tex Nolan!" Rachel shouted. "I'm taking it with me tomorrow, I'll have you know."

"No way," Tex countered. "By the time you get back, you'll have every single line in that damn movie memorized, and I can kiss my top score goodbye." The first evening that Rachel had been released from sick bay Tex and Kathleen had shown up at the hotel suite shared by Rachel and Bertrice with homemade chicken soup and cornbread courtesy of Kathleen and an armful of movies chosen by Tex. The foursome had shared dinner and a movie every night for the last three weeks, and they had developed a sort of game out of memorizing film dialogue and working it into conversations. Upon learning that Rachel had never seen _Gone with the Wind_ – the greatest cinematographic achievement of all time, in Kathleen's personal opinion – Kathleen had searched all over St. Louis for someone willing to trade her for a copy. Much to Tex's chagrin, it had cost him _Scarface_ , a fact that he lamented over to no end.

"Hah!" Rachel exclaimed. "I've already hidden it away in some of my things on the ship. You'd better start memorizing lines from _Dr. Zhivago_ if you want to beat my score."

"Hey, if y'all are gonna argue, do you think you could take it downstairs?" Kat chided them playfully. "Bertrice and I have lots of work to do."

"That's right, we do," Bertice chimed in. "If you two aren't going to help, then you'll only be in the way." Her cheeky grin belied her stern tone.

"How do you like that, Doc? Five minutes under the same roof and they've already ganged up on us," Tex commented.

"I think they ganged up on us the moment we introduced them," Rachel said wryly. "But I know when I'm beaten so what's say we head downstairs and leave them to it?"

Tex slung his arm companionably around Rachel's waist and turned her towards the hallway. "I like the way you think, Doc." As soon as her father and Rachel disappeared from sight, Kat shut the door to Bertrice's room and grabbed her friend's hand, dragging her to a sitting position on the bed.

"All right, spill," Kat ordered.

"I really don't know for certain what, if anything, happened," Bertrice cautioned. "But I believe it has to do with the Admiral. Rachel has not seen him since Dr. Rios released her from sick bay. I know that she's been trying to meet with him, but she hasn't been able to catch up with him anywhere."

Kat shook her head, confusion marring her pretty features. "I just don't get it. Admiral Chandler was almost out of his mind after Rachel was shot. My dad told me that when he tried to visit Rachel the morning after her surgery, the Admiral refused to let him in. They almost got into a fight about it, but Commander Slattery got between them. Daddy was furious, but he left the hospital. He didn't want to do anything that might upset Rachel later on."

"The Admiral eventually let me in, but he stood outside the door with the MP's he'd assigned to guard her room. I believe he was afraid to let her out of his sight, which is why his behavior since Rachel woke up is so bizarre. When I left the room, he immediately came back in, and I watched him for a few moments through the window. He held her hand and pressed a kiss to it. His lips were moving, but I don't know what he said to her." Bertrice's concern for Rachel was evident in her voice.

"Wasn't the Admiral with Rachel when she woke up?" Kat asked and Bertrice nodded.

"He was. According to Rachel it was just the two of them, and though he seemed happy and relieved that she had recovered, she told me that he was quick to distance himself from her and offered to go and fetch one of the doctors. The Admiral never returned," Bertrice finished sadly.

"Do you think maybe Rachel's just sad because she's leaving tomorrow?" Kat asked.

Bertrice shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps, but I think it has more to do with Admiral Chandler. I only wish that she could have the chance to resolve her issues with him before the ship leaves."

"Well, he'll probably come down to see the ship off, don't you think?" Kat wondered. "Maybe she can talk to him then."

"Maybe," Bertrice conceded. "I suppose we'll have to wait and see. I only want Rachel to be happy."

Kat was quiet for a moment and then asked her friend the question she'd been longing to ask her father, but was too scared that it might hurt him. She knew how her father felt about the lovely British doctor. "Bertrice, do you think Rachel is in love with Admiral Chandler?"

"I do, but I'm afraid that it will not bring her any joy," Bertrice sounded heartbroken. "I believe that Admiral Chandler is a good and honorable man, after all he and your father, both, risked their lives to save me, and at first, he seemed very…close to Rachel. I knew he was married, and I don't wish to speculate that something unseemly was going on between them. I truly believe they were only friends. But he treated her differently after we left Baltimore. He was much more distant."

"Well, his wife had just passed away," Kat reasoned. "And he had to have been grieving. Plus, he had to take care of his kids." Bertrice had long since given Kat the backstory, as much as she knew of it, for everyone on board the _Nathan James._

"I don't know, Kat. I don't have a lot of experience with relationships so it is difficult for me to understand the dynamic between Rachel and the Admiral. My family kept me so sheltered, and I was very busy with my younger siblings while my parents ran our inn. Rachel has been so wonderful to me; with each day, I begin to think of her more and more as my family. I know she is not my mother, but sometimes…" Bertrice trailed off as tears clouded her warm, brown eyes, thinking of her mother, lost to the terrible sickness along with the rest of her family.

"Sometimes it feels like she is," Kat finished, the loss of her own mother still fresh in her young soul. The girls threw their arms around each other, then, weeping for the losses they'd already endured. "We have each other, though," Kat whispered fiercely.

"And Rachel and your father," Bertrice affirmed.

"And Will Mason," Kat added, her impish giggle infecting Bertrice, too, and turning the tide of their sorrow.

"Oh, Kat, he is very handsome, isn't he?" Bertrice gushed, the last of tears fading away as joy once again effused her lovely features.

"Sure is," Kat agreed. "And he only has eyes for you. Has he kissed you yet?"

"Kathleen!" Bertrice exclaimed, truly scandalized over such a thought, reminding both girls of just how very different their upbringings had been. Though both girls came from families full of love, Bertrice's family had sheltered her to such a degree that the mere notion of kissing a boy sent her into a dither.

"Oh, relax, will ya?" Kat said with a laugh, sounding very much like her father. "I'm only messing with you. But just so you know, there's nothing wrong with kissing a boy – unless he's real bad at it!" she finished and they dissolved into fits of helpless giggles. Bertrice flopped back on the pillows, her sides aching from laughter, while Kat was slumped over Bertrice's suitcase trying to catch her breath.

Finally, Kat pushed herself to her feet and dragged Bertrice with her. "Come on, Bee, let's get you unpacked. Then we're gonna go through all those clothes you picked out today and find the perfect outfit for you to wear in the morning."

"In the morning?" The look on Kat's face made Bertrice decidedly nervous.

"Uh huh," Kat muttered. "We're gonna make sure that the last vision Ensign Will Mason has of you is enough to knock his Navy issue socks off!"

"Oh, my word," Bertrice wondered aloud only half-joking. "What kind of trouble are you going to get me into, Kathleen Nolan?"

"The best kind," Kat replied with a wink. "Trust me."

Downstairs, Tex had poured Rachel a whisky, neat, and deposited her in front of the fireplace while he fetched his own glass. He plopped down next to her on the pillows that Kathleen had insisted upon for just such a purpose; then he leveled his gaze at the woman who held more of his heart than even his ex-wife had. He tipped his glass towards hers, encouraging her to take a sip. When she'd done so, he wasted no time beating around the bush.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened between you and Chandler today, Rach?"

She blinked in surprise, thought she was more astonished that Tex had waited this long to ask her about her argument with Tom, not that he already knew of the argument. Bad news certainly traveled fast.

"Oh, hell, Doc, don't be sittin' there thinking that half of St. Louis doesn't already know that you and Tom were at each other's throats right in the middle of your lab? You're smarter than that."

Rachel sniffed haughtily. "Well, yes but there are certain aspects of one's life that one wishes to keep private. I understand that gossip spreads faster than even disease, but that does not mean that I have to enjoy it when it spreads on my account."

"Now, Doc, you know I'm only worried about you," Tex reminded her. "Why don't you just finish your drink and tell me what dumb-as-shit thing Chandler did to you this time?"

"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you," she told him. Then she tossed back the remainder of her drink, snatched Tex's right out of his hand and made short work of it as well. Once the blazing inferno had settled to a smoldering burn, she recounted the full story of her encounter with Tom. When she finished, Tex didn't say a word. He just retrieved the whisky bottle and turned it up for a healthy dose before handing it to Rachel, who mimicked his actions.

"Shit," Tex said, taking the bottle back from her.

"Too right," Rachel agreed. "I've never felt like this before, Tex. I feel like such a bloody fool, tying myself in knots over a man who can't even stand the sight of me!"

"What in the hell was he thinking?" Tex muttered, more to himself than to Rachel, but she responded anyway.

"I haven't the foggiest, but if you come up with anything, do let me know, would you?" Rachel fell backwards on the floor, flinging her arm across her eyes and groaning.

' "What about you?" Tex asked.

"What about me?" Rachel countered not bothering to move her arm.

"What were you thinking? What _are_ you thinking?"

"Tex, you can't ask me that. I'm not sure that you want to know."

"Rachel, baby, I ain't tryin' to hurt your feelings, but you wear your heart on your sleeve. And I've been aware for a while now that it ain't me that's in your heart." He paused to take another pull from the whiskey bottle. "Don't get me wrong, now. If I thought for an instant that I had a snowball's chance, I'd do everything I could to make you mine. But it ain't me you want."

Rachel uncovered her eyes and sat back up so she could look her friend in the eye. She did love Tex Nolan, of that there was no question. But she'd never love him the way he loved her. And that broke her heart all the more; that she was causing him pain when all he'd ever done was be there for her, every time that she'd needed someone. She leaned over and covered her hand with his, gifting him with a tender smile. "Sometimes I wish that it were."

Tex's other hand rose to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing the silk of her skin. He had a feeling that this might be last time he'd get to touch her in such a way. At some point, Chandler would figure out a way to get back on Rachel's good side, and when that happened, Tex knew that his time with Rachel would be up. Looking deeply into her eyes, he wanted so badly to close the distance between them and kiss her again. He'd take the memory of that kiss he'd given her in Baltimore to his grave. But he also knew that he couldn't take the rejection a second time. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. When she sagged against him in relief, Tex knew he'd done the right thing. _Taking the high road_ sucks, he thought, but he just rested his cheek against the crown of head and held her in his arms, knowing he'd always do anything to protect her, to make her feel better, to ease her pain, even if it caused him pain of his own.

With his head turned in such a way, he had a clear view of his front door and the bevel glass window taking up over half of it. The front porch light was on, and Tex could just make out the silhouette of someone coming up his front walk and ascending the four steps up to the porch. From the general size and shape of the silhouette, Tex had little doubt that it belonged to none other than Tom Chandler.

"Hey, Doc," Tex said softly to Rachel, who was still looking towards the fire from her spot in his arms. "I think we got company."

Rachel lifted her head and turned towards the door, where she, too, had little trouble divining who stood on the other side. "Bollocks," she mumbled.

Tex grunted. "You up for this?"

"I'm not sure I've got much choice," Rachel said just as the doorbell rang. It was overly loud in the largely silent house, and Rachel and Tex could hear a door open upstairs, shortly followed by footsteps as Bertrice and Kathleen hurried down the stairs. By then Tex had reached the door, but Rachel remained where she was in front of the fire. She told herself it was because she just didn't feel like moving, but the truth was, she was afraid she'd burst into tears again at the very sight of Thomas Chandler.

Tex opened the door far enough that he could see Chandler, but not so far that Chandler would be able to see Rachel just yet. "Evenin', Commodore," Tex drawled slowly.

Tom nodded, the letter he'd composed to Rachel clutched in his hands. "Tex," he replied in what he hoped was an even tone. "I'm sorry to drop by unannounced like this, but I was looking for Rachel. Lt. Foster told me that Rachel and Bertrice were staying with you." It cost Tom every ounce of self control he possessed to string that sentence together, all the while ignoring the urge to shove Tex out of the way. Judging by the wicked gleam in the other man's eye, Tex knew exactly how Tom felt about finding Rachel in another man's home, especially when that man was Tex.

Tex casually allowed the door to swing open, giving Tom the opportunity to take in the darkened living room, the fire in the hearth, the whisky bottle and empty glasses and Rachel sitting on the cushions in front of the fire. Tom's nostrils flared, and Tex couldn't help but feel smug. Still, he wasn't a total idiot, and the last thing he wanted was to be the cause of any more pain for Rachel. She probably wouldn't appreciate it if she had to spend her last night in St. Louis stitching his sorry ass back together after Chandler kicked it apart.

"Hey, Doc," Tex called over his shoulder. "You got a visitor." Rachel rose from the floor in one graceful motion and crossed to the door with the dignity of a queen, her eyes never leaving Tom's, who was drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. Tex moved back to allow her to pass him and step out onto the porch, but he couldn't resist squeezing her hand – making sure that Chandler caught the gesture – and telling her, "You holler if you need me, darlin'." Then he closed the door and herded two protesting teenage girls into the kitchen with him to keep them all from the temptation of eavesdropping.

Out on the porch, Tom and Rachel stood facing one another, neither saying a word. For her part, Rachel was determined to make Tom go first. He didn't seem to be angry, but as she'd learned this morning, appearances could be fatefully deceptive. She could feel his eyes running over her from head to toe and back again, and he had a death grip on a white envelope, reminding her jarringly of the way she'd clutched the envelope she'd brought for him on the night she'd been shot. Just when she thought she'd go mad from the silence, Tom spoke at last.

"Rachel, I'm so, so sorry for the way that I treated you this morning."

She nodded, but she didn't answer.

"Here," Tom thrust the envelope at her and she reflexively reached out to take it. "I don't want to keep you from your…evening," he said choosing his words carefully. "But I couldn't let you go in the morning with the way that we left things between us. That explains it better; at least I hope it does." He indicated the envelope.

"Oh, well, thank you," Rachel was unsure how to respond. Did he expect her to read it now while he waited?

"Don't open it now," he rushed ahead, making her wonder for the second time that evening if she were an open book to everyone around her. "I mean, unless you want to. Or don't. I, what I mean is I'm not trying to tell you what to do. It's your choice; I don't want you to think that I'm trying to order you around or anything. I just want you to do whatever it is you want to do."

Rachel covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. For a man who had faced down brutal dictators and crazed Russian sea captains, he certainly was having trouble talking to her. Tom noticed the way her lips curled up in amusement, and even if it was at his own expense, he was just glad he'd made her smile again instead of cry.

"I'm sorry," he said again but this time he chuckled at his own ineptness. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"

"What, apologizing to people or talking to women?" Rachel couldn't help but tease him.

"Both, neither, hell, I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe I should quit while I'm ahead." He took a step back, but he didn't take his eyes off her. He _couldn't_ take his eyes off her. "I'm going to say goodnight now, Rachel."

"Goodnight, Tom," she said though she wanted to say much, much more. She settled on, "Will I see you in the morning?"

He nodded. "Count on it," he assured her. Then he turned on his heel, walked back to his jeep which was parked across the street, and drove away. Rachel followed the taillights as they faded into the darkness. Then she dropped into one of the rocking chairs that she'd helped Tex choose that very afternoon and with shaking hands tore open the envelope that bore her name, unfolded the pages within and began to read.

 _My Darling Rachel,_

 _That is how I think of you, you know – Darling, Sweetheart, Honey, Baby, Love…mine. Oh, Rachel, that you might one day find it in your heart to forgive me for what I've done to you and consent to actually BE mine. I know that I've made a lot of mistakes, and I only hope that you'll give me the chance to rectify them, to start fresh and to show you how very much in love I am with you._

 _You were right about one thing today in your office, Rach. Well, you were right about a lot of things, but you told me today that I was afraid of what might happen to me because of you, and you were exactly right. I've been in love with you for a while now Rachel, and I was terrified to give into my feelings because I thought any admission would mean the cost of my soul. Today, a very close friend helped me to understand that denying my feelings for you was killing my soul, not saving it. I was holding onto the past, and I've let it all go. It doesn't mean that I'll forget Darien or our life together, but honoring those memories doesn't mean that I have to turn away from loving you, and sweetheart, I do love you, so very much! It's important to me that you understand that you are not a replacement or a substitute for Darien, Rachel. I am in love with YOU, and if you'll give me the opportunity, I'll spend every moment I possibly can showing you, in great detail, exactly how much I love you._

 _I want to hold your hand in mine as we walk down the street together. I want to take you in my arms and feel your body pressed against mine. I want to kiss your mouth and run my fingers through your hair. By the way, I adore your hair, Rachel. If you only knew how many times I stopped myself from reaching out to run my fingers through the ends of it. I want to make you smile at me, the way you did outside of my hotel room that night._

 _I want to stand up with you in front of our friends and family and marry you. I want to see my ring on your finger and see yours on mine. I want to take you to bed and love you over and over, until your belly swells with a life created by our love. I want to stand beside you as you take your place in this new world of ours, as you continue to heal its people with the incredible gifts of science and medicine that you have. I want you beside me, standing with me, as I lead the men and women under my command and help them, in turn, to lead others. I want us to shape this world together, for our children and their children and their children. I want to share my life with you._

 _I know that I'm asking a lot, Rachel. I come with a lot of attachments, not the least of which is a ready-made family. You and I are so much alike, and as many times as we've already butted heads, that's only going to keep happening if we're together. In fact, I'm counting on it. I've had quite a few fantasies of ending some of our arguments by kissing you into silence; or turning you over my knee…but that kind of thing is for another kind of letter, baby._

 _Jesus, Rachel, I hope I'm not scaring you off with this, but I just don't know what else to do at this point except be honest with you and tell you how I feel. I'm putting all my cards on the table, honey. I'm through hiding. I'm not asking you to marry me tonight. I want you to get a chance to know my kids, really know them, because I want to share them with you. I want them to become your kids, but I know that won't happen overnight. But if you want the same things that I want, if you want me, if you want US, then one day very soon, I will ask you to become my wife._

 _I guess that's what it all comes down to, baby. I've told you what I want, I've shared with you my dreams for the future, and now it's up to you. What do you want, Rachel? I know that I really messed up, and if I could undo the hurt I caused you, I would do it in a heartbeat. I know that it will take time to earn your trust, to make you believe in my love for you, but however long it takes, I'll wait. You're worth it, Rachel. You're worth everything, sweetheart, and I only hope that you'll give me the chance to love you in the way that you deserve. I told you that night outside my hotel room to come find me when you came home from your mission. You're not going to have to come find me when you come home, Rachel, because I'm going to be waiting on that dock on the day the_ James _comes back into port, waiting for you, if you'll have me. Please, please say that you'll have me, Rachel, that you'll be mine. I'm already yours._

 _All my love,_

 _Tom_

 _P.S. I found a book of poetry on the bookshelf when I moved into my new house. I can only speculate that it belonged to the previous owner. The book is very old, and most of the pages were dog-eared and yellowed with age. But there is one page that was more worn than the others, and the poem contained on the page touched me deeply and I wanted to share it with you here. The verse is by Catullus, and the book tells me that he was a Roman poet who lived around 84 B.C. For a guy who lived that long ago, he sure knew his stuff. I'm not sure who translated it into English; the book doesn't say, but I'm glad they did. If it were in Latin, I wouldn't have the first clue as to what is says. I bet you speak Latin, don't you? Maybe you can teach me sometime. But anyway, sweetheart, here's the poem, and I hope that we can get started on our thousand kisses very, very soon:_

 _Come and let us live my Deare,  
Let us love and never feare,  
What the sourest Fathers say;  
Brightest Sol that dyes to day  
Lives againe as blith to morrow,  
But if we darke sons of sorrow  
Set; O then how long a Night  
Shuts the Eyes of our short light!  
Then let amorous kisses dwell  
On our lips, begin and tell  
A thousand, and a Hundred score  
A hundred, and a Thousand more,  
Till another Thousand smother  
That, and wipe off another.  
Thus at last when we have numbered  
Many a thousand, many a Hundred;  
We'll confound the reckoning quite,  
And lose our selves in wild delight;  
While our joys so multiply,  
As shall mock the envious eye._

Rachel carefully folded the pages of Tom's letter and placed it back in the envelope. A few tears had splashed onto the pages, but they couldn't be helped. The door opened and then Tex was there, wordlessly pressing tissues into her hand. He stepped back while she collected herself, waiting to take his cue from her. After a few blots with the tissues and a few deep, cleansing breaths, Rachel offered the envelope to Tex. He refused.

"That's between you and the Commodore, Doc. It ain't meant for my eyes." Tex didn't add that he didn't think he could take knowing the contents of that envelope. He'd noticed something about Chandler that he doubted even Rachel had picked up on – Tom had not been wearing his wedding ring.

"Yes, well, it seems as though Tom has experienced quite the epiphany," she told him giving the envelope a little waive. "He says he's in love with me."

"Tell me something I don't already know, Doc." At the incredulous expression on Rachel's face, Tex burst out laughing. "Holy hell, Doc, are you telling me you really had no idea that Chandler was in love with you? Baby, I called that one when me and the captain were bobbing around out there in the ocean after we rescued Bee. He said he was married, but that's all he said. Sometimes denial is the most straightforward kind of admission."

"Tex, that's preposterous!" Rachel exclaimed. "Why, then Tom still thought his wife was alive. He'd never, ever have betrayed her!"

"Now, now, simmer down, will ya? Don't get your panties in such a twist. I never said nothing about the man betraying his wife. I'm only telling you what I saw and what I know, and Tom Chandler was already thinking more about you than he'd care to admit." When Rachel narrowed her eyes at him, Tex only laughed again, but he did hold up his hands in surrender.

"All right, all right, forget about all that. All that matters now, is that he's told you how he feels, right?"

Rachel nodded.

"Then I only have two questions for you. The first - are you in love with Tom?"

Rachel didn't hesitate to answer. "Yes, I am."

"Ok, my second question – is he worth the risk? It won't be easy, you know?"

"Yes, I think he is – _we are -_ worth the risk."

"Then what the hell are you still doing standing around here talking to me for? Go on, get out of here and put Tom out of his misery." He smiled the whole time, but it was tearing his guts out to say that to Rachel.

Rachel beamed at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for being my friend," she whispered.

"I'm always gonna be that for you, Doc. You can count on it." Rachel ran down the steps and out onto the sidewalk, running full-tilt in the direction of Tom's house. Shaking off his melancholy as best he could Tex turned and went back inside to explain the new developments to the girls. He'd deal with his own feelings later.

 _Gravity_ by _Sara Bareilles…_

 _You hold me without touch_

 _You keep me without chains_

 _I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your reign…_


	4. Chapter 4 - The Light in Your Eyes

Author's note – You know, I keep asking around, but the general consensus still seems to be that TNT and lots of other people own the rights to _The Last Ship_. This chapter is shorter than the others, and while that wasn't my intention, this just seemed to be a good stopping point. One thing about the rating, to me it still only warrants a _T_ rating, but I suppose some might construe it as a mild _M._ Hopefully, it won't send anyone running for the hills. I'll be out of town beginning Monday and won't be back for a week (thank you, vacation gods!), but I'm going to try and get in one more update before I leave. The title for this chapter is from _I Choose You_ by Sara Bareilles. This chapter might not have seen the light of day if it weren't for the support of some truly fabulous ladies who got me off the ledge this afternoon. I'd been staring at it six ways from Sunday, nonstop for the past four days, but they got me sorted out! And thanks to **Scousedancer** for her trusty beta skills! I wish I could respond to all of the guests who've reviewed, but since I can't PM, please let me offer my genuine thanks for each and every one of them.

XO,

Kate

 _The Light in Your Eyes_

 _Let the bough break, let it come down crashing_

 _Let the sun fade out to a dark sky_

 _I can't say I'd even notice it was absent_

' _Cause I could live by the light in your eyes…_

Tom's house was seven blocks from Tex's. Pre-shooting, Rachel easily pounded out a five-mile run. Three blocks in, she realized that she wasn't quite up to snuff, but nothing was going to keep her from Tom. By the time she made it to his house, she was ready to collapse in exhaustion. She pounded on the door and then leaned against it, trying to slow her erratic heart rate and labored breathing, which was why, when Tom opened the door, the motion sent her toppling, and he found himself with an armful of Rachel.

"Rachel, are you all right?" he asked worriedly, pushing her sweaty hair back from her face.

She nodded, gulping in air. "I ran all the way here. Not the best idea I've had, I'll admit."

Tom swung her up into his arms and made his way to the living room sofa, trying not to think about the last time he'd held her like that. He deposited her gently on the sofa, but when he moved away to sit in the oversized chair across from her, Rachel grabbed his hand and pulled him down next to her. "Your letter," she cocked her hip to pull the envelope from the back pocket of her jeans. "Do you really mean all the things you wrote?"

He didn't even hesitate. "All of it, Rachel, every single word." The truth he spoke was revealed in the love she saw in his cerulean eyes, and Rachel was overwhelmed. She started to weep, softly at first, then harder as her tiny frame began to tremble with the depth of her sobbing. Tom, truly baffled, reached for her, gathering her into his arms. Rachel went willingly, gratefully, tucking herself against him and allowing him to hold her while she cried.

"Rach, baby, please tell me what's wrong," Tom whispered gently. "If you tell me what's wrong, I'll fix it. I swear to you, sweetheart, just tell me and I'll make it all better."

Rachel only shook her head fiercely, still sobbing against his chest. Tom held her tighter, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her scent. He had no idea why the woman he loved was so upset, but he figured as long as she would allow him to hold her while she wept then it had to be something that he could fix. Until she enlightened him, he'd just hold her and let her cry it out. When, after long minutes, Rachel's cries quieted into sniffles and the sobs that had wracked her body subsided into shudders, she adjusted her body so that she was curled across Tom's lap, her face pressed into his neck. Tom rubbed soothing circles on her back with his right hand while his left arm draped over her thighs. Holding her that way, Tom realized how small she really was. When she'd get in his face during an argument, she'd always seemed so much _more_ , but nestled against him, her slight weight resting on him she wasn't as big as a minute. He could feel each of her ribs through her back, and he guessed that she had to be down at least ten pounds – not an ounce of which she'd had to spare. He made a mental note to speak with Bacon before the _James_ left port in the morning. His girl needed some feeding up, fast. Now he just had to figure out what he'd done that had made her cry so much.

"Rachel, honey, can you talk with me now?" The tender timbre of his voice caused Rachel to lift her face.

"I'm sorry, Tom," she told him. "I don't know what came over me." She ran her fingers over the soft material of his t-shirt, soaked through from her tears. "I've ruined your shirt."

"I've got more shirts, Rachel. But I only have one of you. Do I have you, Rachel? Is that why you're here?"

She nodded her head slowly, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. Tom sank back against the couch in relief. "Oh, thank God," he whispered. "I was so afraid tonight, when I saw you at Tex's, that I was too late. I thought I had finally sent you running for good this time."

His confession surprised her. Then again, everything that had gone on between them today, from their argument this morning – _was it only this morning -_ to his letter to her breakdown had surprised her. "I wanted to run away this morning," she told him. She knew she was going to have to be as honest with him as he'd been in his letter to her. "I was so hurt, Tom. I watched you as you walked away from me. I waited for you to turn around. In my heart, I was _begging_ you to turn around, just once. I thought if you at least glanced at me, then it was a sign that things would eventually work between us. But you kept on walking, and in that moment, I wanted nothing so much as to get away because the very idea of being around you, but not being _with_ you broke my heart."

Tears pricked Tom's own eyes, and he slipped his hands into her hair drawing her face to his until their foreheads were touching. "I'm sorry, Rachel, I'm so sorry that I hurt you this morning."

"We hurt each other, Tom," Rachel insisted. "It seems to be something we're rather good at, unfortunately," she finished sadly.

Tom shook his head. "Then let's stop being good at it, Rachel. I don't want to hurt anymore. I'm tired of fighting my feelings, my _love_ , for you! All it's brought us both is misery and heartache. I'm ready to start living again, and I want to start living with you by my side." His passionate plea sent her fragile heart soaring, and Rachel could no more have stopped the smile that appeared on her face than she could stop her heart beating.

"Tom," she whispered, tracing his mouth with her eyes. "Please kiss me."

"With pleasure, sweetheart," he murmured against her lips before covering them with his own. The kiss was soft, subtle in ways that their kiss aboard the _Vyerni_ could never have been. Having shared that kiss, though, Rachel thought she knew what she'd be in for. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have ever prepared Rachel for kissing the man she loved, the man whom she now had no doubts loved her in return. The kiss went on and on, Tom caressing her mouth with his, tenderly, lovingly, using action to express the depth of his feelings for her. Then the tip of Rachel's tongue danced across Tom's lower lip, and he groaned into her mouth before sliding his tongue against hers.

Rachel whimpered in pleasure as she swung her legs around so that she was straddling Tom's lap. Soft and slow faded into memory as she felt the evidence of Tom's desire for her between her spread thighs. She ground down on him, hard, and he gasped, rutting against her, desperate to ease some of the tension he felt. Lungs burning, Rachel at last tore her mouth from Tom's, panting his name in a manner that did nothing to slow his raging libido. She dropped her head onto his shoulder and he carefully slid his arms around her tiny frame, holding her as close as he could get her and still keep his hormones in check.

"Just give me a moment, please," she said. "I'm afraid that I'm still not back to 100%."

Tom grunted. "It's only been three weeks, Rach. No one expects you to be Superwoman. Well, no one except you, that is," he joked.

"You're incorrigible," she muttered then she lifted her head so that their eyes met. "But I love you in spite of that trait."

The light that appeared in Tom's eyes could have lit up the night sky. "Say it again," he encouraged her by brushing his lips over the curve of her cheek.

Rachel feigned exasperation. "You're incorrigible."

Tom chuckled and nipped at the graceful column of her throat, just over her fluttering pulse. "You little vixen," he playfully scolded her. "Say the _other_ part again."

"I love you, Thomas Eli Chandler," she said, amused at the wrinkle that appeared on his brow.

"How did you know my middle name?" he asked in curiosity.

"You weren't the only one issued a dossier prior to our mission, love. The Pentagon thoughtfully provided me with profiles on you and your officers."

"The file they gave me on you didn't list your middle name," Tom complained, sounding quite like a little boy who'd just been told that his new toy wasn't the latest and greatest version on the market.

"Chin up, darling, my intelligence was just a bit more thorough than yours." She lessened her teasing by nuzzling his lips, tongue darting out to lick at the seam of his exquisite mouth. The sound that he uttered shot straight to her womb, and a quake of arousal rolled through her.

"So what is yours?" His hands skimmed the curve of her hips before settling over her bottom, bringing her flush against him.

"What is my what?" Rachel was finding it difficult to focus on what Tom was saying, thanks to the magic spell he was weaving with his hands.

"Your middle name, Rachel," he insisted. His fingers ghosted along her waist flirting in the gap between her shirt and her jeans. "Tell me your middle name." She gasped into his mouth as he thrust against her, the length of him pressing sinfully into the seam of her jeans.

"Does it matter?" she squeaked a fresh wave of arousal cresting over her. Tom stilled beneath her, moving his hands to her waist to halt her movement. He gazed deeply into her eyes, completely serious.

"Everything, absolutely _everything_ about you matters to me, Rachel – everything." Neither blinked; they simply stared into one another's eyes. Then Rachel threaded her hands through Tom's and realized something was missing.

"You aren't wearing your wedding ring."

"I'm not married," Tom explained. After he'd written his letter to Rachel that afternoon, he'd gone upstairs and taken a small white box from his closet shelf. Inside it was a bottle of Darien's perfume, their wedding photo and Darien's engagement and wedding rings. Tom had slid his wedding band off his finger and laid it carefully in the box. One day, he thought Ashley might want them, and he'd keep them for his daughter. Replacing the lid on the box, Tom had bid his last farewell to his first wife and had gone downstairs, fully looking forward to beginning what he hoped would be a life shared with Rachel. Rachel was mesmerized by the pale circle on his finger where his ring had once been so he lifted her chin carefully and told her, "One day, I will be again, Rachel. At least, I certainly hope to be, but for now, I'm not married so there's no need for me to wear a wedding ring."

For her part, Rachel understood perfectly what he was implying. _I'm not asking you to marry me tonight,_ he'd written in his letter. And even though it did terrify her, the notion of one day being married to this incredible man, it also thrilled her to no end. Gifting him with a smile very much like the one she'd thrown at him that night in the hallway outside of his hotel room, Rachel leaned down and brushed her lips against his, once, twice and whispered, "My mother's name was Claire Elizabeth, and I share my middle name with her."

"Well, then, Rachel Elizabeth Scott, I am hopelessly, completely in love with you."


	5. Through the Stains & Through the Cracks

_Through the Stains and Through the Cracks_

Author's Note – The title of this chapter comes from the song _Glass_ by Thompson Square. It's a country song, but I'm from Alabama so it was bound to happen sooner or later. _The Last Ship_ is still not mine; otherwise, I wouldn't be torturing the fan base over Rachel's fate. Thanks again for each and every review, follow and favorite. It's these that let the author know that someone else is enjoying our work, and they really do feed the muse. A very special thank-you to the ladies over at our Writer's Hangout (you know who you are!); I love our little bunch! Thanks to **Scousedancer** for the quick beta!

 _I'll let you look inside me  
Through the stains and through the cracks  
And in the darkness of this moment  
You see the good in that…  
_

_Two months later…_

"Ashley, Sammy, come on you, two!" Tom called up the stairs. "Rachel will be online any minute now, and anyone _not_ present and accounted for when she does is going to be left out!" Chuckling to himself, Tom walked towards the kitchen where he'd left his laptop, knowing that his "threat" would have them front and center in no time. Sure enough, the predictable melee arose on the stairs as Ashley and Sam tried to each beat the other down the stairs. Sammy must've won because he came skidding into the kitchen, arms flailing comically as he tried to keep command of his legs. Tom righted him and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Easy there, Sport. None of us will get to talk to Rachel if we have to treat you for a broken bone."

"It would serve him right," Ashley stated crossly, joining them in the kitchen. She glowered at her brother who inched a little closer to their dad. "That hurt, you know." Sam had pushed her into the banister in his effort to be first, and Ashley rubbed her elbow which had taken the brunt of the impact.

Tom gave his son a look of disapproval. "Did you push your sister, son?"

Sam nodded glumly. "Yes, sir, but her legs are longer than mine, and just once I wanted to beat her."

"Son, we don't hit girls. Or push them," he added in anticipation of Sam's protest. Sam's mouth, indeed opened to point out that he'd pushed his sister and not hit her, closed at once. "Now what do you tell your sister?" Tom encouraged.

Sam obediently turned to his sister. "Sorry, Ash." Ashley, unable to stand the pitiful expression on her baby brother's face, placed her uninjured arm around his shoulders.

"It's okay, twerp," she told him with a smile, and Sam wrapped his arms around his big sister's waist. Tom, pleased with his kids' behavior, turned back to his laptop, where Rachel was just calling in.

A tender smile lit her beautiful face, and Tom had to clench his fists to prevent reaching out and stroking her image onscreen.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Hi," he responded. The children, not to be ignored, stuck their heads around either side of their father.

"Hi, Rachel!" they greeted her brightly in unison.

"Hello, darlings, I'm so happy to see you both!"

"It feels like it's been forever," Ashley commented, when in reality it had only been a few days.

"I know, sweetheart," Rachel sympathized. "I'm sorry I've missed our chats these last few nights. Things have been quite hectic here, I'm afraid."

Tom was on instant alert. "I haven't gotten any reports of Immune threats. What's going on?"

Rachel shook her head. "Nothing like that, Admiral, please stand down," she joked and the children snickered at one another. None of their dad's friends got away with talking to him the way that Rachel did, and it impressed them both. "We've established a medical clinic here in St. Paul, and people are coming in droves. I've been on my feet for the last fourteen hours."

Her exhaustion was evident in her eyes, and Tom ached to wrap her in his arms and hold her while she slept. "You should be resting, Rachel," he admonished her. "Have you even eaten today?" He was painfully aware of her tendency to throw herself into her work and not eat enough to keep a bird alive.

She dutifully shifted the camera's view to zoom in on a meal tray containing the crust off a sandwich and an empty soup bowl. "Delivered to me personally by Bacon not thirty minutes ago, and I finished just before ringing you." The tiny smile that Tom bestowed upon her made her heart flutter; the man could turn her to mush with a glance, and he bloody well knew it, too. Fearing that she might inadvertently give away their little secret, she turned her attention the Ashley and Sam. It had been her idea, after all, to keep their relationship a secret until she'd been able to establish a bond with the children and them, with her. Tom had agreed, but it meant that their already limited time together via video conference and was shortened even more. Still, Rachel wouldn't give up the ground she'd gained with Tom's children for anything.

"Enough about me," Rachel said brightly. "I want hear all about your day. Ashley, why don't you go first?"

"We're reading _A Journey to the Center of the Earth_ in my English class. We started it yesterday," Ashley said excitedly. "So far I like it. My teacher lets us read aloud and act out the story. It makes it so much more fun."

"That's wonderful, darling! That was one of my favorite books when I was your age," Rachel told her and the little girl beamed at her. "And how was your day, Samuel?"

Sammy's infectious grin was so much like Tom's that Rachel couldn't help but imagine what Tom looked like at that age. "I was the only kid in science class who knew how many bones are in a human skeleton. My teacher was super impressed!"

"I'll bet she was," Rachel laughed. "You are a very smart young man, Samuel Chandler."

"But I only knew the answer because you told it to me," Sam sounded a bit down at that prospect.

"Yes, but you are the one who remembered the answer," Rachel countered and Sam brightened considerably.

Tom kept quite in the background, observing the interactions of his children and the woman he loved. Rachel kept them talking, drawing out little pieces of their personalities, and sharing bits of daily life aboard the ship. He knew Rachel was scared, that she had concerns about Ashley and Sam and how they would accept her into their lives. But from the few encounters that they'd had aboard the _James_ and the almost nightly video chats since the kids had arrived in St. Louis, Tom thought things were going perfectly. The very first video chat he'd shared with Rachel after the kids had arrived had been very short, but it had been enough to break the ice. Rachel was a natural with children, and Tom believed with all his heart that she'd be a wonderful mother to Ashley and Sam, as well as to any other children with which they might be blessed.

That very first night, Tom had been chatting with Rachel as the _James_ had docked in Burlington, Iowa, the first extended stop of their "cure tour," as Rachel had dubbed it. They'd stayed in Burlington for one week, establishing a clinic and a lab to produce two versions of the cure – the injection and the booster for the contagious cure. That was more or less the plan for the rest of the tour. They were going to establish clinics and labs in Burlington and La Crosse, Minnesota, with the largest of both to be constructed at the port of St. Paul and Minneapolis. Once the facilities in St. Paul were up and running, the _James_ would head south again, stopping at the smaller ports to distribute the cure created by Rachel onboard and by the larger labs on land. They would also be taking on any military personnel they could find who wanted to come to St. Louis. If St. Louis was going to be established as the new capital for the United States, then the fledgling government would need as many citizens with military training that it could find to train all of the new recruits that President Michener was hoping to attract. If starting the country had been a daunting task for the founding fathers, then rebuilding it from the wrath of the Red Flu would prove to be no less of one. Still, if all went well, the _James_ would make home port in another six weeks – not a moment too soon as far as Tom was concerned.

"All right, Tom, I believe it's your turn now," Rachel said giving him a smile that made him want to kiss her. "How was your day?" There was softness in her tone that Tom felt all the way to his soul.

"It was fine, Rachel," he answered. "We had a good day for recruiting. A couple of Army rangers arrived yesterday afternoon. They were leading a group of twenty three, and they made it all the way from Denver." Rachel's eyes widened in surprise, but she waited for Tom to finish his account before posing any questions. "They'd managed to avoid the virus until they reached Kansas City. The group set out from Denver with thirty people. By the time they reached Jefferson City, they were down to twenty-three, all of them infected. Rachel, they were cured in Jefferson City. A family that received the cure here in St. Louis had headed to Jefferson City to reach some of their extended family. They came across the group led by the Rangers and cured them all!"

Tom had been chomping at the bit to share this story with Rachel, and the tears of joy that sprang to her eyes were no less than what he expected. "It's working," she said with wonder. "People are spreading the cure, just as we'd hoped."

"Yes, they are, and it's all because of you, Rachel." The fierce pride in his voice made Rachel blush. He knew she couldn't stand to be in the spotlight, and she knew that he loved to put her there.

"I didn't do it all by myself," she protested. "I had quite a lot of help along the way, as I recall."

"But you're the one who discovered it. You created the vaccine and the cure, Rachel, and people are living and healing because of it."

"Dad's right, Rachel," Sammy spoke up. "My science teacher wants you to come and speak to our class when you get back. That is, if you don't mind?" His sheepish grin could make Rachel agree to just about anything.

"I'd be honored to speak to your class, Sam," Rachel responded. "Please tell your teacher."

Sam pumped his fist in the air. "Yes!" he shouted and Tom, Rachel and Ashley all laughed at his exuberance.

"I think you've just made his day," Tom told Rachel.

"Glad to be of service," Rachel replied.

"Rachel?" Ashley's hesitant manner caught Rachel's attention immediately.

"Yes, sweetheart, what is it?" Rachel asked earnestly.

"Do you think you could come to my class, too?"

Rachel beamed at the young girl who'd stolen her heart along with her father and brother. "Of course, my darling, I'd love to come to your class as well." Ashley smiled sweetly.

"Hey, I'm starting to feel left out here," Tom grumbled good-naturedly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Dad," Ashley said with a very teenaged roll her eyes. "It's not like you've got a science class that Rachel can come to."

"Yeah, Dad," Sammy joined in. "Why would Rachel want to come to talk to you when she can talk to _us_?"

Rachel couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. "You should see the look on your face, Tom!"

"Fine," Tom huffed. "If you three would rather be alone then I'll just go over here and make myself small while you finish your conversation." Tom gave Rachel the most pitiful expression he could muster, but she only laughed louder.

"All right, all right, children, I think we've had enough fun at your father's expense this evening," she said at last, prompting Tom to adopt an extremely self-satisfied grin. "Perhaps we should…" Rachel trailed off midsentence as a pounding knock sounded on her door. She held up one finger to Tom and the children as she called out, "Come in."

The door opened and though Tom couldn't see him, he recognized the voice as that of Will Mason. "Dr. Scott, I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but Dr. Milowsky needs you immediately at the clinic. He says it's urgent."

"Tell him I'm on my way."

"Yes, ma'am, a jeep is waiting now to take you back to the clinic," Mason told her. Then he left, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Rachel turned back to her laptop, but Tom was already one step ahead of her.

"Go, Rachel, we'll talk to you later, and be safe." Rachel heard with her heart as well as her ears, and she knew what Tom was really telling her. _I love you. Take care of yourself. I wish I were there with you, to keep you safe._

"I will, I promise, and I'll talk to you as soon as I can." Then, as the three people who had come to mean the world to her watched, Rachel turned off her laptop and the screen on Tom's faded to black.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note – I apologize for the delay between updates, but after I returned from vacation, I picked up a rather nasty case of walking pneumonia that pretty much knocked me off my feet. I also don't have a title for this chapter so there aren't any song lyrics to list. But here is chapter 6, thanks to the super duper beta skills of_ _ **Scousedancer**_ _for getting it back to me so quickly and also for the lovely ladies over at the Hangout who help out tremendously as we has out ideas and supposition – when we're not laughing ourselves silly, that is! And thanks again to all of you who read, review, follow and/or favorite._

Chapter 6

Rachel barely waited for Lt. McLaughlin to bring the jeep to a halt before she bounded out of the passenger seat and barreled her way through the clinic doors. Chaos and panic were clearly the standard fare for the evening as all around her, people in various stages of injury were amassed. Catching the eye of Lily Morgan, a young nurse and one of the first of their civilian recruits in St. Paul, Rachel asked for a status update. The young woman, barely out of nursing school when the outbreak took hold, looked as though she were ready to head for the hills, but when she met Rachel's eyes, something within the girl settled, and she was able to quickly and efficiently bring Rachel up to speed.

"We were ready to close for the night. I was helping Dr. Milowsky with the last bit of clean-up, and some of the volunteers were restocking our supplies when the shots started ringing out. At first it seemed far enough away that we weren't too concerned, but then people started showing up, beating on the doors to be let in. Dr. Milowsky told me to open the doors, but then more and more started coming. They're all hurt; the most critical are in the back. That's why Dr. Milowsky had me send for you, Dr. Scott."

"I don't understand," Rachel muttered, casting a cursory glance around the little clinic. Every available piece of furniture and floor space was occupied by people of all ages, in varying degree of injury. "These people look like they've been through a bloody warzone! What the hell happened?"

"Rachel, thank God you're here!" Rick Milowsky burst out of the swinging doors that led to one of the two surgical rooms espoused at the clinic. "There's no time to explain, please hurry, you've got to help me!" Moving completely on instinct Rachel turned to follow her colleague; then she turned back to Lily.

"Go outside, Lily, and find Lt. McLaughlin. Have him radio Commander Slattery and tell him what's happened." Lily turned on her heal to obey and was out the door in a flash. Rachel moved equally fast into the surgical room where Milowsky was waiting on her. She stopped short at the sight of their patient. A young girl lay on the examination table in the throes of labor. The girl, whose age Rachel put at no older than 18, barely offered Rachel a passing glance. A bloody bandage was wrapped around her head, and her left ankle was in a splint.

"Rick, what in God's name is going on?" Rachel demanded. Rick took her by the elbow, guiding her to the sink, where she began scrubbing in, operating once more on instinct.

"A group of survivors, around 20 in total, was living in an apartment building just off the water front. Marie," he paused to indicate the pregnant patient behind them. "Was part of the group, along with her boyfriend. All members of the group received the cure when we arrived, but tonight, their group was attacked by Immunes. They used grenades, guns, practically anything they could get their hands on. These people didn't stand a chance." Rick leaned in closer to whisper, "Marie's boyfriend was DOA."

Rachel closed her eyes. She wanted to rage against the cruelty of people, but there wasn't time for that. "Give me the status on Marie, please," she stated, her eyes opening and focusing on their patient.

"She's full term and dilated 10 centimeters. Her water broke approximately two hours ago, just as the attack on the apartment building commenced. Her boyfriend was trying to get her here when he was caught in the cross fire. A few of their neighbors put them in a car and got them here, but as you can see, it wasn't without injury to Marie. She has a mild concussion and large laceration to her forehead which required seven stitches, and she has a fracture on her lower right fibula. The most pressing matter, however, is that she is in full blown labor, and her baby is breech."

Rachel cast a doubtful glance at Rick. "I'm not an obstetrician, Rick, nor yet a surgeon."

Rick nodded quickly. "I know, Rachel, but your hands are smaller than mine. We're going to have to try and turn the baby."

Behind them, Marie cried out, a feral sound that echoed down Rachel's spine. The girl's distended abdomen convulsed, drawn taught by the power of the contraction, and Rachel felt her own womb clench in sympathy. At last, the contraction passed, and Marie's head dropped back to the table, her eyes closing in exhaustion. Rachel gave Rick a cursory nod before wetting a cloth with cool water and ringing it out. She moved at once to Marie's side, laying the cloth against the girl's forehead.

"Marie," she whispered gently, and the young girl's eyes fluttered open. "My name is Rachel, and I'm going to try and help you and your baby."

"Are you a doctor?" the girl asked her voice hoarse from screaming.

"I am," Rachel smiled at the girl and touched her cheek gently. Marie seized Rachel's hand, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Please, do whatever you can to save my baby! I don't care what happens to me. I know that Josh is dead, and I don't think I'm going to make it, either, but please save my baby." The girl's impassioned plea touched Rachel deeply, and she felt tears spring to her eyes. She patted Marie's cheek and smiled reassuringly at the young mother.

"I will do all that I can to help both you and your baby, Marie. You have my word." Rachel held the penetrating gaze of her patient until the girl nodded, a watery smile casting a pretty glow to her tired features. Turning back to Rick, Rachel asked him what his plan was.

"Between contractions, I'll need you to reach your hand inside and try and guide the baby into a head-down position."

Rachel nodded thoughtfully. Though she'd never done it herself, she knew it was an age-old practice used by midwives throughout history and still relied upon by their modern counterparts. Still, there was a reason that so many women used to die in childbirth and breech presentation was certainly one of the factors. "And if that doesn't work?"

"Let's just pray it does," Rick answered. Rachel didn't comment, instead opting to slip on a pair of surgical gloves. She moved between Marie's spread thighs and gripped her knee in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

"All right, love, I'm just going to slip my hand inside now and see if I can tell what your little one is up to. You're going to feel a great deal of pressure, Marie, but try not to push just yet."

"Okay," Marie groaned willing her body to hold still. Eyes closed, Rachel felt cautiously inside the girl, trying desperately not to cause her any more discomfort than absolutely necessary. Her fingers seized upon a tiny lump; further inspection led Rachel to believe it was one of the baby's feet. She ran her fingers across the surface of the foot and sure enough, the other foot was pointed at the top of the birth canal just above its fellow.

Without warning, Marie's body fell into another contraction, and Rachel thought for certain her hand would be crushed with the force of Marie's clenching muscles. With no choice but to ride out Marie's contraction with her, Rachel encouraged the young girl to breathe. "Your body knows what needs to be done, Marie, even with your baby turned in this position. Don't fight it, sweetheart, breathe into the contraction. Yes, that's it, well done, Marie!" Rachel praised her as she removed her hand and discarded the used gloves. She motioned Rick over, sharing her thoughts with him.

"One of the baby's legs is fully descended into the birth canal and the other foot is just at the entrance. There's no way to turn the baby, Rick. Our only choice is to try and guide the other leg down and help the baby along. It will be ghastly painful for Marie, but there's no help for it."

Rick nodded thoughtfully. "A caesarian section would be best, but we don't have the means to anesthetize her."

"Even if we did, Rick, that kind of surgery…" Rachel trailed off, unwilling to even say aloud the terrible complications which could arise from such an attempt. "Well, as you said, we don't have the means to perform a c-section. Babies are born breech all the time. It's not ideal, but it does happen." Rachel finished with more bravado than she felt. Marie cried out then behind them, and the two doctors hurried back to their patient.

"I need to push!" Marie exclaimed. Her upper body rose from the table, instinct driving her into a position more naturally suited to childbirth. Having witnessed childbirth in Uganda, Mozambique and India, Rachel had often wondered why western women allowed themselves to be pushed practically on their backs during labor. Clearly Marie, young as she was, had some understanding of natural childbirth and Rachel quickly ordered Rick to get behind the young girl and assist her in sitting up while Rachel donned a new pair of gloves.

"All right, Marie, I'm going to try and reach your baby's feet. It's important that you not push until I tell you to." She didn't wait for Marie's consent; she reached inside her and took hold of the baby's distended foot, just in time for Marie to grunt out another contraction.

"Now, Marie, push!" Rachel instructed and her young patient bore down, hard, and Rachel was able to guide the second leg into the birth canal. "Good girl, keep pushing, that's it, don't let up, push, push, push, now breathe!" Marie's head lolled against Rick's shoulder as she absorbed the momentary respite her body offered her. Both of the baby's feet were now just at the entrance of Marie's vagina, Rachel was pleased to note, and she shared the news with the exhausted mother and Rick. Marie tensed up and Rachel took hold of the baby's feet in preparation.

"All right, Marie, on the next contraction, I want you to bear down as hard as you can. Scoot your bottom down just a bit, please, yes, I know that's uncomfortable, having your knees at your ears," Rachel commented and was happy when Marie chuckled a little. "It does help your body accomplish this birthing business, I promise. When the contraction begins this time, push!" she commanded and Marie did. She screamed out as blinding pain tore through her insides, but she pushed as she screamed, and when the contraction ended, Rachel could see the curve of the baby's buttocks.

"Marie, you're doing so well. The baby's bottom is nearly out. This next part is going to be the worst, but then it will all be over and you'll be able to hold your baby."

Marie's head shook weakly. "It hurts so much! I didn't think it would hurt this much."

Rick pushed Marie's matted bangs from her face. "I know, honey, but you're doing great, just like Rachel said." His fatherly tone soothed Marie, and she nodded briskly.

"Okay, I can do this," she whispered to herself, and when the next contraction began, Marie pushed so hard that she felt certain her insides were going to come pouring out of her. The pain, excruciating and white-hot, exploded from her womb and poured out through her lower body, all the way to her toes. While she pushed, she screamed, eyes slammed shut until she thought her head would burst. She was aware of nothing save the pain and the desire to push so she did. After what seemed like an eternity, Marie slowly became aware of her surroundings. Dr. Milowsky was behind her, and he was the only reason she was still upright. She sagged against him, completely boneless. She peered down her body, something she hadn't been able to for several weeks thanks to her pregnant belly, trying in vain to see her baby.

Rachel was bent over a small table, her body obscuring Marie's view further. "What is it? What's wrong? Is it my baby?" Fear took the place of her pain, and she thrashed in Dr. Milowsky's arms. He held onto her, whispering that everything was all right, and she had no choice but to believe him.

Rachel leaned down once again, blowing breath into the newborn's lungs. The umbilical cord had been wrapped around the baby's throat. She'd pried it loose at once and had already cut and tied off the cord as quickly as she could, but she had no idea how much damage had already been inflicted. She only knew that she had to get the baby breathing. "Come on, little one, it's time to breath now, all on your own," she whispered before blowing one final breath into the baby's nose and mouth. In answer, a shrill wail split the air as the baby drew oxygen into its lungs for the first time. Tiny limbs flailed at Rachel as if chiding her for taking it from the warmth of its mother, and Rachel grabbed up the baby, tears spilling from her eyes even as laughter bubbled up within her. She wrapped the child hastily and turned to present the baby to Marie.

"Congratulations! You have a little girl, Marie, and she seems perfectly healthy!" Rachel moved to Marie's side so that she could place the infant girl in her mother's arms. Marie tried to hold the baby, but her arms felt like noodles, and Rachel wrapped her own arms around both of them so that Marie could hold her baby.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Marie stated awestruck. The baby had a head of dark hair, more than Rachel had ever seen on a newborn, and though her eyes were quite blue at the moment, Rachel told Marie that they'd most likely change color in a few weeks.

"Did you have any names picked out?" Rachel asked, but Marie shook her head.

"We didn't know if the baby was a boy or girl, and Josh said that we should wait until the baby was born before we named it. I only made it to one doctor's appointment before everything got bad, and we had no way of knowing what was normal or even what might have been happening to me or the baby. I think he was just afraid that something would happen to us," Marie finished sadly. Then she shivered and moaned as a new pain radiated from her abdomen. Rick moved down to take Rachel's place, motioning for her to take the baby from Marie.

"It's the afterbirth, Marie," Rick explained. "You need to deliver the placenta, but don't worry it won't be near as bad as having the actually baby was," he told her with a smile. Rachel scooped the baby from Marie's arms.

"Let me get this little beauty all cleaned up while Rick works on you, love. Then you can hold her all you like, all right?" But Marie didn't respond. Her head dropped back on the table, her eyes fixed at some point beyond Rachel. Later, Rachel would say that she literally watched the life go out of the young girl. But at that moment in time, Rachel was only aware of thrusting the baby towards Rick before attempting CPR again, this time on Marie. She worked on the girl until she felt arms pulling her back, and she fought against the grip as hard as she could.

"She's gone, Dr. Scott, there's nothing that you can do for her!" Slowly, Rachel became aware of her surroundings. Lt. Carlton Burke had his arms wrapped around her while Dr. Milowsky covered Marie's lifeless body with a sheet. Sensing that Rachel wouldn't fight him any longer, Burke lowered his arms, and Rachel turned around, blinking at him in surprise.

"Lt. Burke, when did you arrive?" She still sounded detached to Burke, but he thought she would be all right.

"Just a few minutes ago, Ma'am. Captain Slattery ordered us here after McLaughlin radioed in about the attack. Doc Rios is out there now, helping your nurse, along with some of the ship's crew. We're trying to get everyone treated as best we can. Captain wants you and Dr. Milowsky to brief him as soon as possible on the state of the injured."

"Of course, give me just a moment, Lt. Burke," Rachel said, but she didn't wait on a response. She went to over to the counter where Rick had made a hasty bassinet for Marie's little girl. He'd cleaned the baby off and wrapped her snuggly by turning a towel into a swaddling blanket. She picked up the little girl, who blinked owlishly at Rachel before her lids fluttered shut as she settled comfortably in Rachel's arms.

"I need to find someone to take her," Rachel explained to Burke who moved to open the door for Rachel. The waiting area of the clinic was still bustling with activity, but there were far less injured people lying about. Nearly everyone had been seen to, and when Rachel looked at the clock, she was shocked to realize that over an hour had passed since she had arrived at the clinic. Clutching the sleeping child to her chest, Rachel called out to the room in general.

"Excuse me, but I need your attention, please. The young girl who came in with you, Marie, do any of you know if she had family, friends, someone who might be willing to care for her baby?"

Across the room, the people from the apartment complex turned to one another before giving Rachel their attention, all shaking their heads helplessly at her. Finally, one of them, a man with his left arm in a sling but who appeared otherwise unharmed, rose to his feet and approached Rachel. "Is Marie dead?" His bluntness surprised even Burke who had come to stand at Rachel's side. The captain had instructed him to stay close to Dr. Scott, and Burke intended to do just that.

"She is," Rachel responded. "But her baby is just fine." Rachel showed the child to the man, who gave the infant no more than a quick glance. "She'll need someone to care for her, though. Would any of you who knew Marie be willing to take her child? I realize this is completely unorthodox, but these are unorthodox times." Rachel spoke imploringly, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. No one, absolutely no one, was willing to meet Rachel's eyes as she looked upon Marie's neighbors one by one.

"Look, you all obviously cared about Marie and her boyfriend, Josh. You brought them here to the clinic because you knew Marie needed help, and you cared enough about her that you didn't leave her boyfriend's body behind. This child's parents are gone, and she needs someone to care for her. She needs a loving home, preferably with someone who can tell her something about her birth parents, when she's old enough to ask questions. Will none of you open your hearts to her?" As if on cue, the baby in Rachel's arms began to fret, and Rachel looked down to see the baby rooting for sustenance – sustenance that Rachel was not equipped to provide. The man, who seemed to be the spokesman for the group, seized upon Rachel's distraction to speak.

"With all due respect, Doctor, we appreciate what you've done for our people, not just tonight, but with the cure and everything that you brought to us when your ship arrived a few weeks ago. But Marie and Josh just moved in right after you folks arrived. We didn't know them, and well, frankly a lot of us were leery about letting them stay. Josh was kind of a hothead, you see, and he caused a good bit of trouble. My wife felt sorry for Marie, though, her being so young and all. She kind of took up with her, found her all these books in the library about having babies, but my wife, my wife was killed tonight, too, you see? I didn't even know she was hurt until she fell down in my arms right outside the door there." He paused to wipe some stray tears and pointed outside where some of the _James_ crew was placing the dead into body bags. "So no, ma'am, I'm sorry, but none of us will be able to take that baby for you. We've got to take care of our own children. You folks are the government, aren't you? It seems like to me that you people would be better equipped to find somebody to take care of that baby."

Rachel listened to the man's speech, and while she had great empathy for the loss of the man's wife, she couldn't believe that he, along with the rest of these people, were so willing to turn their backs on a helpless infant. Indignation rose within her, but as she looked around the room once more, she swallowed it down, squashing the urge to lash out at these people for their selfishness. Instead, she clutched the baby more tightly to her chest, aware that all eyes, including those of the _James_ crew, were on her. She turned to Burke then, effectively turning her back on the roomful of people.

"Lt. Burke, we have a small supply room in the back. I need to gather some things for the baby. Would you be kind enough to escort me, please?"

"Yes, ma'am," Burke answered at once following Rachel who had already started walking down a short hallway. When they reached the supply room, Burke found an empty box. "Tell me what you need, Dr. Scott."

Rachel blinked a couple of times, but she didn't speak until Burke called her name again. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Rachel shook her head to clear away the cobwebs. "There should be two kinds of formula, one milk-based and one, soy. Please take some of each. You'll find some bottles as well. We'll need a couple of packs of those and some diapers." Rachel named off several other items which Burke faithfully placed into the box.

"What about these?" Burke held up a box of prepared bottles of formula equipped in newborn feeding bottles. Formula companies provided them to hospitals to give to new mothers. Rachel hadn't been aware that they had any, but as their goal with the clinics had been to eventually establish outreach centers where people could obtain basic supplies, she wasn't surprised at the addition.

"Yes, please, hand me one now so we can get something in this little girl's tummy," Rachel said and Burke rushed to free one of the bottles from the package. He saw a bottle of hand sanitizer on the desk that Rachel was seated on, and he washed his hands with the gel. Then he opened the brown rubber nipple package and attached it to the little bottle of formula before handing it to Rachel. Rachel took the proffered bottle and guided it to the baby, who latched on right away, hungrily drinking the milk.

While the baby drank, Rachel asked Burke if she knew what the captain had planned. "He sent some teams out after the Immunes, but they're in the wind. We'll need to help these people seek shelter elsewhere, and we'll do what we can to help them establish some kind of police force so that they can try and protect themselves."

"It's amazing, isn't it, how quickly civilization can be brought to its knees?" Rachel mused.

"It didn't take long, that's for sure," Burke agreed. "But we're still here. We're still fighting, and we'll keep on until we get civilization up and running again." The conviction in the young lieutenant's voice rang true in the silence, and Rachel smiled brightly at him.

"As long as there are men like you, Lieutenant, civilization will be just fine."

The bottle held two ounces, and Rachel was pleased when the little girl took most of the bottle before pulling away. She carefully shifted the warm, little body against her shoulder, patting the infant's back until she emitted a soft burp.

Burke had watched the entire process with fascination. It was hard to believe that the woman in front of him, lovingly tending to an orphaned baby, was the same stoic woman who had boarded the _James_ almost a year ago, just before the world went to hell. But then he supposed that everyone had changed. Some people had changed for better, but some, like those Immune bastards, had changed for worse. Rachel stood, drawing Burke from his reverie, and she laid the baby out on the desk.

"Will you hand me one of those diapers, please?" Rachel asked. Burke gave her one of the newborn diapers which she quickly placed on the baby before wrapping her snuggly in the towel once more.

"I'm sorry about the wardrobe choices, little miss," Rachel spoke to the now sleeping baby. "Hopefully we'll be able to find you something more appropriate along the way."

"What now, Dr. Scott?" Burke asked hefting the box of baby items in his arms. Rachel gathered the baby close.

"Now, I suppose I'd better have a chat with Captain Slattery to let him know he's got an addition to his crew."

 _St. Louis, Missouri - The Same Evening_

After his call with Rachel had been cut short, Tom had counted on a quiet, uneventful evening at home with his father, Ashley and Sam. He'd been sorely disappointed. Not five minutes after he'd pushed the kids out of the kitchen and back to their rooms to get ready for bed, his phone had rung. The land lines were the most reliable form of communication once again, but Tom was thankful for them. The caller had been Kara, informing him that some visitors had arrived, seeking a meeting with both Tom and the President. Kara had informed Allison Shaw, the President's new Chief of Staff, but Allison was unwilling to bring them before Michener until they'd been vetted by Tom.

Leaving his father in charge of the kids, Tom had made the journey to his office, where Kara met him with dossiers on each of their visitors. Tom knew one of them by sight and reputation. Captain Sasha Johansen had been at the Academy with Tom, and their paths had crossed a few times during his Seal days. She was a decorated officer, with many commendations in her file, the majority of which had been earned while serving in the Navy's counterintelligence department. Working in China when the outbreak had taken rabid hold there, Sasha had made her way to the coast where she'd taken passage on a ship bound for California. By the time the ship reached the American coast, only Sasha and one other man remained. From that experience, Sasha and her co-survivor had drawn the conclusion that they must be immune in some way to the virus. Having picked up the radio chatter about the cure and St. Louis, Sasha and her companion had made their way east.

Now, Tom sat alone in his office, troubled, thinking about the two visitors. It wasn't Sasha who troubled him; on the contrary, he would be glad of her assistance in the coming days. The source of Tom's worries stemmed from the identity of her companion. Tom looked down at the photo on his desk, given to him by Sasha's traveling companion. He didn't doubt the authenticity of the photo. In fact, he'd seen it before many times in Rachel's lab onboard the _James_ , where it had served as the screensaver to her laptop. Sasha's companion was none other than Michael Crain; Rachel's photojournalist boyfriend whom they'd assumed had perished in China. But now Crain was here, in St. Louis, looking for Rachel. And that troubled Tom very, very much.


	7. Chapter 7 - Homeward Bound

_Author's Note – Thank you to_ _ **Scousedancer**_ _and her rocking, lightning-fast beta skills as well as suggesting a title for this chapter, and many, many thanks to all of you who review, favorite and follow this story._

 _Homeward Bound_

Mike was waiting in the ward room when Rachel and the baby, accompanied by Burke, Miller and Wolf, returned to the ship. Rachel had a speech prepared in her head, ready to make her case to the new captain of the _James._ She and Mike had not always seen eye to eye, and though they'd reached a tentative accord, she wasn't certain that he would see things her way. The baby, blissfully sleeping as newborns were want to do, was clutched to her chest, and a fierce wave of protectiveness washed over Rachel – she wouldn't allow anyone to come between her and this helpless child. The door to the ward room was open, and Mike was standing at the window looking out into the night. Miller knocked on the open door and saluted his captain when Mike turned around.

"I have Dr. Scott, Sir," Miller announced stepping aside for Rachel to enter. She met Mike's gaze and shifted the sleeping baby so that she could ease into one of the chairs. Mike dismissed his men and motioned for Miller to shut the door. Burke headed to Dr. Scott's cabin to drop off the box of baby items while Miller and Wolf returned to the deck. They were returning immediately to shore to further assist the civilians injured in the Immunes' attack.

Mike took a seat across from Rachel once Miller closed the door. Arms crossed over his chest, he eyed the sleeping infant in her arms, waiting for Rachel to speak. Taking a deep breath, Rachel launched into her story about Marie and Josh and everything that had happened at the clinic. "So you see, Captain Slattery, I really had no choice in bringing Marie's baby on board. There simply isn't anyone to care for her! The local authorities are barely functioning, and there are no civil programs in place anymore which might normally be called upon in a case like this. I won't abandon this child!" Rachel finished her voice barely a hushed whisper, mindful of the sleeping child.

Mike said nothing for a moment. Then he motioned to the baby. "May I?" Rachel, startled at his response, nodded jerkily and handed him the baby. The little girl, tiny in Rachel's own arms, was dwarfed in Mike's embrace; yet he held her to his chest, cradled her there, inhaling the mystifyingly sweet scent of a newborn baby's head. It was one of the most remarkable transformations that Rachel had ever witnessed, and she'd seen nearly every aspect of the human condition. But just as this innocent child had completely turned Rachel's world upside down so it seemed she had worked her magic on Mike Slattery. She watched as Mike transferred the baby confidently against his shoulder, his hand spanning the baby's back from head to bottom as he patted her, swaying back and forth in a rhythm only he could hear. It hit Rachel, then, a punch to the gut – of course, Mike knew how to hold a newborn. She knew that he had three of his own children, and that he'd lost his youngest, a boy, to the virus while they'd been in the Artic. To her knowledge, he hadn't been able to make contact with his wife and two daughters, and Rachel's heart truly went out to the man and all that he'd lost, like so many others, at the hands of this terrible virus.

Clearing his throat, Mike asked at last, "What's her name?"

Rachel, not truly realizing until Mike posed the question that she did intend, somehow, to keep this baby and become her mother, answered immediately, "Claire. I'm going to call her Claire Marie. Claire was my mother's name, and Marie is her birth mother's name. She'll grow up with that knowledge of her, at least."

Mike nodded. "That's a pretty name, and she's a beautiful baby. I think she's lucky to have you for a mother, Rachel. Any child would be." Then he brushed a kiss against little Claire's downy head and leaned down to place her in Rachel's arms. "You make a list of what you need, and give it to me. I'll make sure that it's taken care of. Now, I need to check in with Tom, and I know he'll want to hear from you, too. That is, if you don't mind sharing the call with me for a few minutes?" The corner of his mouth lifted in the smallest indication of a smirk, and Rachel couldn't help matching his expression.

"Not at all, Captain Slattery," she responded, and Mike burst out with a guffaw of laughter.

"Good Lord, but I hope my best friend knows what he's gotten himself into with you!" he exclaimed as he reached for the laptop on the table in front of him, opening it up to a blank screen. He knew Tom would call in at any moment.

"Oh, he does," Rachel assured him, laughing along with Mike. "Sometimes I even let him think he's in control." Mike laughed even harder, just as Tom's face came on the screen. Whatever Tom had been expecting, it certainly wasn't Mike and Rachel laughing together like the best of friends while Rachel held a baby. Still, the scene brought great relief to Tom; Rachel was _there_ , whole and healthy judging by the pink in her cheeks and her laughter, and he had known Mike Slattery long enough to be certain that if anything were amiss, Mike wouldn't be in the ward room laughing with anyone over anything. It had taken every bit of restraint Tom could muster not to commandeer the first plane or helicopter he could find and fly himself to St. Paul, once he'd learned of the attack on the civilians there. The thought that Rachel might be a target for the Immunes again, after St. Louis – Tom wasn't certain he could survive anything else happening to the woman he loved. He'd spent the intervening hours praying fervently for the safety of all involved, but he wasn't ashamed to admit that Rachel was at the forefront of all of those prayers.

"Is this a bad time, Captain Slattery?" Tom's voice broke through Rachel and Mike's laughter and they both gave him their undivided attention, albeit for completely different reasons. Mike immediately filled Tom in about the search for the Immunes, leaving out what had transpired at the clinic. That was Rachel's story to tell, not his.

"And do you think the Immunes are preparing another assault?" Tom asked when Mike finished his recap.

"Not likely," Mike responded. "They've gone to ground. The teams I dispatched haven't been able to come up with a trace of them. There'd been no Immune activity prior to our landing. There'd been no violence. I think they came in from another area, migrating from the west. If they were after the ship, they would have hit us directly. Plus, we've been here for over two weeks. They've had ample time to stage an attack, if we were their target."

"Immunes who aren't seeking vengeance on the manufacturers of the cure, only on the recipients of it," Tom mused. "That's different."

"We've arranged shelter for the survivors," Mike continued. "And tomorrow, we'll help them see to their dead. There were six."

"Out of how many?" Tom asked.

"Twenty people were living in the apartment building," Rachel interjected. "Five were killed during the attack, and one died at the clinic."

Tom could tell from the sorrow in Rachel's eyes that the death at the clinic had left its mark on her. He also suspected that it had a great deal to do with the baby she now held. The morning the _James_ had left St. Louis, Rachel and Tom had arrived at the port together, Rachel's duffel bag over Tom's shoulder and her hand clasped in his. The heated farewell kiss that Rachel had bestowed upon him had erased any doubts that might have lingered in the minds of the onlookers, and Mike's catcalls had been the loudest from the foredeck of the ship so Tom didn't feel the least bit self-conscious when he looked pointedly at Rachel and asked, "What is it, sweetheart? Tell me."

And Rachel did. She told him everything that had transpired from the moment she'd arrived at the clinic earlier that evening right up until she'd returned to the ship and decided to raise the baby herself. Tom's heart went out to the young girl, Marie, who had lost her life trying to give life to her child. "Rick and I feel like she probably developed an aneurysm as a result of the blow to her head," Rachel explained. "The trauma of labor likely caused the clot to rupture. Even if we'd known about it beforehand, there wouldn't have been anything we could have done." Though intellectually Rachel knew that, it still grieved her tremendously that yet another life had been snuffed out far too early.

"Rachel, listen to me," Tom intoned, wishing for the world he could take her in his arms. "You did everything that you could for Marie and for her child. You delivered her baby safely just as Marie asked, and now we're going to do all that we can to ensure that little girl has the life that she deserves."

Rachel cast her eyes to the ceiling, trying to stem her tears, afraid that if she truly started crying, not only would she not stop, she'd wake Claire. "You said 'we're' going to give her the life she deserves," Rachel said looking between Claire's beautiful little face and Tom.

"You told me before you left that you were mine," Tom said slowly, hoping he wasn't going to scare Rachel half to death. He still had to tell her about Michael, after all, and while he didn't think it would make a difference in his and Rachel's relationship, he could admit to himself that it wasn't a conversation he looked forward to having. "So if you're mine and Claire is yours, then she's mine, too."

"I love you," Rachel blurted out. God, how had she managed to find such a wonderful, loving man as Tom Chandler when the entire world was going to hell all around them?

"I love you, too, Rachel," Tom told her, neither of them caring at all that they weren't alone. "We'll make sure everything is done properly when you get back to St. Louis. I'm sure there's a way that paperwork can be drawn up, but whatever we have to do, we'll do it to make certain that Claire is part of our family."

"But what about Ashley and Sam, your father, what will they think of all this?" Rachel suddenly panicked. She was still afraid that the children wouldn't accept her new role in their father's life. The last thing she wanted was to come between Tom and his children, which was why she'd insisted the children not be told about their relationship right away, until they'd had a chance to get to know her. It was so important to Rachel that she bond with Ashley and Sam and they, with her. She loved them too much already to want to harm them in any way.

"We'll tell them the truth, Rachel, that you and I are in love, and that we're going to be a family. My kids love you, honey, you have to know that by now, and my dad is ready to personally intervene if I don't – and I quote 'stop acting like a fool and tell that woman how you feel before someone else gets her first.'" Tom finished with a smile to which Mike snorted and Rachel replied, "I've always liked your father."

"And my point, sweetheart, is that he and my kids feel the same about you. It'll be all right. Just have a little faith, okay?"

He sounded so certain and Rachel wanted so badly to share in that certainty. Her life had changed so much since the night that she and Tom had finally confessed their feelings for each other; she now found herself wanting all the things that she'd always believed were out of her reach. Home and family were for everyone else, not for someone like her. She'd believed that for nearly all of her life, since the day that her mother had died, leaving her to a father who loved his god more than his daughter. Yet now, when the world lay in ruins all around them, she found herself not only loving, but being loved by a man like Thomas Chandler – a man who treasured his family above all else and who wanted her and the newly born child she'd claimed for her own to be part of his family. Finding it difficult to speak around the emotions welling up inside her, Rachel nodded and smiled at Tom.

"That's more like it," Tom told her before turning his attention to more pressing matters. "Mike, a team is gearing up now to come and get Rachel. Even if the Immunes in the area haven't targeted her yet, it doesn't mean that they won't change their minds later. I'm not willing to take that chance with her life, and President Michener agrees with me."

Mike readily agreed. "I think that's the best course of action." He turned to Rachel to gauge her reaction, but both men were stunned when Rachel heartily agreed.

"The labs are up and running along the river, as are the clinics," Rachel pointed out. "The cure is being distributed, and people are beginning to get the help they need to resume their lives. I can do more in St. Louis, consulting from the main lab, further studying the virus in case it should, God forbid, change from its stabilized pattern, not to mention cataloguing all the samples from the CDC in Atlanta." Michener was quite serious about St. Louis being the capital of the rebuilt United States, and he'd asked Rachel prior to her leaving what she thought about moving the Centers for Disease Control from its Atlanta headquarters. The deadly viruses and bacteria retained by the CDC needed to be under the watchful eye of someone trustworthy and, Michener had assured Rachel, there was no one he deemed more trustworthy than her.

Tom and Mike looked back and forth at one another, stupefied that Rachel, the woman who had at one time or another, gone toe to toe with both men when they'd tried to make decisions about her safety, was readily agreeing to be recalled from the front lines. When Tom, somewhat reluctantly, voiced his confusion, Rachel looked down at her daughter before looking back at Tom onscreen. "I've got other people to consider now, love. It's not just me anymore."

Tom was struck, then, by how utterly and completely alone Rachel really had felt for most of her life. She'd shared so much with him the night before the _James_ had left. They'd spent the night in each other's arms, and in between bouts of incredible lovemaking, she'd told him all her secrets, all the things that she'd kept locked away for so long, all the hurt that she'd worn throughout her life as a shield, and Tom had done his best to prove to her that she was no longer alone, that she was precious, treasured. Beaming brightly at her, he said, "I'm happy that you finally figured that out, Rach." They held one another's gaze for a long moment, having an entire conversation with their eyes, until Claire began to fret.

"Oh, you poor little love," Rachel cooed cradling her daughter even closer. "I bet you're hungry again, aren't you? Tom, I had Burke take all of the supplies I brought from the clinic to my cabin. I should have thought ahead enough to keep a bottle with me," Rachel fretted more to herself than to Tom or Mike.

"Welcome to parenthood, sweetheart," Tom joked trying to keep her from launching into a full-blown worry session. Her mouth, which he couldn't wait to taste again, was drawn into an adorable little frown. "It's the best job you'll ever have, but it doesn't come with any kind of instructions."

"Yes, well, I'll get the hang of it eventually," she answered primly rising gracefully to her feet and adjusting her hold on Claire.

"You're doing just fine, baby," Tom assured her. "Go feed our little girl, Rach, and I'll be with you both very soon."

"You're coming to get us?" Rachel asked, surprise coloring her voice. The revelation didn't startle Mike in the least. His buddy wasn't the kind to be chained to a desk, especially when the personal stakes were so high.

"I'm going to head home now. I want to tell my dad and the kids about Claire, prepare them for that much of a change, at least. My team and I will be leaving St. Louis at 0500 tomorrow. Mike and I will discuss the particulars, but yes, sweetheart, tomorrow morning, I'm coming to get you and our new daughter."

"But, Tom, please don't tell the children about us just yet, all right? You can tell them that I've adopted Claire, but I'd really rather tell them everything else in person," Rachel pleaded. Tom wanted to protest; he really thought the kids would be just fine, but it seemed so important to Rachel that he didn't have the heart.

"All right, Rach, you win. I'll tell them about Claire for now, and we'll tell them the rest together." The smile he earned from Rachel was worth any concession in Tom's book. "Now, go before Claire decides to pitch her first fit."

"I love you, Tom, be safe," Rachel told him. Then she headed towards the door, but Tom stopped her just as she reached for the handle. "Hey, Rach, how much does our girl weigh?"

"Six pounds, three ounces," Rachel supplied. "And she's seventeen inches long." Tom nodded, committing the measurements to memory.

"Tell her Daddy is going to bring her something special to wear tomorrow," he said, loving the way it sounded to say aloud that he and Rachel were parents, together. When Rachel looked at him longingly, love apparent in her eyes, Tom explained himself further. He wanted Rachel to understand that he was fully committing himself to her and to Claire. "I chose outfits for Ashley and Sam to wear home from the hospital, Rach, and I'm not going to break with tradition now. Go on, honey, take care of Claire and get some rest. I love you, and I'll see you tomorrow."

When the door closed behind Rachel, Tom turned his attention back to Mike, but Mike was one step ahead of him. "I'll have Gator select an extraction point and send you the coordinates."

"Send them to me personally and have Alisha encrypt it," Tom instructed.

Mike's brow furrowed. "Are you worried about a security leak?" he asked.

Tom shook his head slowly. "No, not really, I just…there's something about this attack that doesn't sit right with me beyond the obvious reasons. Why that apartment building? Why that particular group of people? Why attack them now, only to fade into the background?"

"Those Immune bastards are just a bunch of homegrown terrorists, Tom," Mike said. "You said that, yourself when we caught the one who shot Rachel and that guy was just a peon who thought he could make a name for himself by taking out the creator of the cure."

"Yes, but, that's my point exactly. We know why the shooter came after Rachel. We know why those bastards blew up the oil rig in the Gulf. We know why they tried to sabotage us in Memphis. What in the hell was the motivation for this attack, now, in St. Paul on a group of people who received the cure nearly two weeks ago?"

"The object of terrorism is to instill fear within a certain group of people. I'd say the Immunes definitely made their point tonight, killing six people and leaving that apartment building in shambles. Burke told me they dropped a grenade right at the front door, blew a hole in the damn wall big enough to drive a truck through. It's completely uninhabitable now, so not only did they manage to kill people, they destroyed a shelter, too."

Tom nodded thoughtfully pondering over what Mike had said when a strange yet terrifying prospect rose unbidden in his mind. "Do we know for certain that the people who launched the attack were Immunes?"

Mike eyed Tom strangely. "Who else would they be? Look, Tom, there's absolutely no one on earth that I trust more than you, but I'm having a hard time following you."

Tom sighed then, running his hands tiredly over his face. "I don't know, Mike," he answered honestly. "Maybe I'm just grasping at straws, here. But something tells me that there's more to this than meets the eye."

"Tomorrow, once Rachel and Claire are safely away, I'll take a team and have a little chat with the man who Rachel thinks is the leader of the group of survivors, see if I can't get some answers."

"Good, good, but don't spend too much time on it, Mike. Do what you can to help them and get what answers you can to help us know who we're up against, but I want you to keep to the original plan as much as possible. Get the _James_ and her crew back home, as soon as you can."

"Not that we won't be happy to get back to St. Louis, but something is going on, something you aren't telling me," Mike said carefully, leaning forward with his elbows on the table and his chin propped on his folded hands. "What else is going on?"

Tom stared at his friend's onscreen image for a moment before admitting, "You know me too well, Mikey. I had some visitors earlier this evening both of them newly arrived from China and immune to the Red Flu."

"Interesting," Mike commented. "Are you going to tell me who they are or is it a matter of national security?"

Tom smiled sardonically. "Not exactly national security – more personal, you might say. Are you familiar with Captain Sasha Cooper?"

"By reputation only. She was pretty hot stuff in Naval Intelligence, I think," Mike responded and Tom nodded.

"Yes, I worked with her a time or two during my Seal days. She was on special assignment in China when the virus took root there. She made it to the coast and was able to take a ship bound for the California coast, but only she and one other person made it the States alive. Everyone else onboard died from the virus."

"Who was the other survivor? Are they Navy, too?"

"No, the other person is a civilian, a photojournalist on assignment from the AP. He didn't meet up with Captain Cooper until they both found themselves on the same ship. Mike, the man's name is Michael Crain, and he's Rachel's boyfriend – was Rachel's boyfriend. Damn it," Tom muttered frustrated. "I don't even know what I'm so upset about. I know how Rachel feels about me."

"Yep, and thanks to that little PDA you two gave us on the morning we left port, I'd say all of St. Louis knows how she feels about you," Mike quipped not at all feeling guilty about the smirk on his face. Tom just looked at him. Mike studied his friend's face for a moment – _there_. It was fleeting, to be sure, but a speck of uncertainty flared in Tom's eyes before it was extinguished. "Christ, Tom, you can't possibly doubt how that woman feels about you. I hate to break it to you, brother, but Rachel fell for you a long time before you fell for her. Or before you embraced your feelings for her," Mike added carefully, but Tom didn't take the bait – not that Mike actually expected him to. "Look, whatever this Crain guy might have been to Rachel, it doesn't hold a candle to what she feels for you."

Tom sighed heavily; then he chuckled in spite of himself. "I feel like a goddamned teenager again, Mike, trying to get up the guts to ask the homecoming queen for a dance. I don't want to screw this up."

"Yeah, well, then don't screw it up," Mike said flatly. "You and Rachel are lucky, Tom."

"Mike, listen, I'm sorry," Tom said feeling like a complete and utter ass. "Here I am, whining like a kid, when I've got no right to complain about anything."

Mike shook his head furiously at his friend. "You don't owe me any apologies, Tom. It is what it is. We've all endured loss in some form or other. But tomorrow night, when you're at home with your woman and your kids, just don't forget to count your blessings, all right? That's good enough for me."

Tom nodded sharply. "When you bring the _James_ home, I want you to select a group of men to go with you and look for Christine and your girls. You start at your house and retrace every single step your family took until you find them. However long it takes, whatever resources you might need, you'll have them, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Admiral," Mike responded. "One last word of advice, if I may? When you do tell Rachel about Crain, and if I were you, I'd definitely let it be one of the first things you tell her tomorrow, _don't_ mention that you told me first. I get the feeling it wouldn't go over too well with her."

"Duly noted, friend," Tom agreed sagely. "Chandler out." The screen went to black then, but Mike just settled back in his chair, eyes closed, picturing his wife and daughters, and for the first time since he left his home, having left behind the cure and a letter for Christine, Mike felt the first rays of hope creep into his heart.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was nearly midnight when Tom arrived back home. Predictably, his father was still awake, reading in the living room by lamplight. When Tom entered the room, he sat down on the sofa and waited while Jed marked his spot and closed his book, placing it on the end table.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't be back until morning," Jed commented. He studied his son carefully, yet while Tom certainly appeared to need a good night's rest, there was lightness in his countenance as well – a lightness that Jed had come to associate as the after effects of his son's conversations with Rachel Scott.

"It was a long night, and it isn't over just yet," Tom said. He then filled his father in about Sasha and about Michael.

"And this Michael, you say he's Dr. Scott's boyfriend?" Jed asked when Tom had reached the end of his story. Tom nodded tightly, but he didn't comment further. "Hmm, well, I expect that will come as a bit of welcome news to Dr. Scott. It doesn't appear to sit too well with you, though."

Tom gave a longsuffering sigh. "Don't worry about me, Dad. I seriously doubt Michael Crain will affect me one way or another. But that's not really the important news," Tom hurried along hoping to get his father to go down another rabbit trail. "Earlier tonight, a group of Immunes attacked a civilian group in St. Paul."

Jed sat straight up in the chair. "What? Is everyone all right onboard the James?"

"They're all fine," Tom assured him. "The civilians, a group of twenty, were immunized by Rachel and the other doctors when the ship reached St. Paul a couple of weeks ago. You know they've established clinics and labs as they went upriver. The largest one is the one they opened in St. Paul. Anyway, the civilians were living together in an apartment building just off the water front. Earlier tonight, a group of Immunes attacked them, killing five outright. The sixth victim was a young girl who was pregnant. Rachel and Rick were able to save the baby, but the mother died soon after giving birth. Rachel thinks the girl had a blood clot in her brain from a head injury."

Jed shook his head sadly. "Those poor people," he said. "What about the baby's father?" he asked after a moment.

"He was killed in the attack. They were just kids, Dad, both of them eighteen, maybe nineteen years old, according to Rachel. She couldn't find anyone to take the baby, Rachel, I mean – no one was willing to take the baby and without any kind of real social structure, Rachel has decided to raise the baby on her own." Tom watched his father carefully to gauge his reaction.

"Well," Jed smiled at Tom. "At least there's some bit of good news in all this awful business."

"So you think it's a good idea for Rachel to keep the baby?" Tom asked a little shocked at his father's ready acceptance. Jed had only interacted with Rachel for a very short amount of time on board the James, to Tom's knowledge.

"Why in the hell wouldn't it be a good idea, Tommy?" Jed sounded almost angry. "Rachel would be a wonderful mother to any child," his father said pointedly looking at a framed picture of Sam and Ashley on the coffee table in front of Tom. Tom's eyes widened. He knows, he thought, mentally chastising himself for thinking he could keep anything of this magnitude from his father. Jed watched his son, reading his inner turmoil expertly and decided that now was the perfect opportunity to get his son to confess what Jed himself had known for quite a while.

"Tell me something, Tommy. This Crain fellow, why exactly is it that you think his sudden reappearance won't have any effect on you?" Having asked his question, Jed leaned back in his chair smirking knowingly at his offspring and watching him stew in his own juices.

After a long moment of silence, Tom cast a glance out into the hallway in the direction of the staircase. Satisfied that one of the kids wasn't lurking around, he turned back to his father. "It won't affect me, Dad, because Rachel has no interest in pursuing a relationship with Michael Crain."

"Really, you don't say? And uh, why would that be? Pretty girl like Rachel, young, smart and now with a baby to care for; seems like to me she'd be looking for someone to be that baby's daddy, and I'd think she'd start with the man she was involved with. Unless, of course, she'd already found herself another candidate?" Jed just couldn't resist baiting his boy. Tom had always been stubborn, and he hadn't changed with age. If anything that stubborn streak had only grown stronger. Now, it looked as if Tom was going to choke on his silence before he'd spill his guts about already being involved with Rachel. Jed started laughing, quietly at first; his laughter grew louder with each passing second. Finally he leaned up and slapped his hand on Tom's knee.

"Oh, Tommy, I thought we'd finally outgrown the age when you thought you could still pull one over on your old man. A bit of advice, son – if you're going to have a 'secret' relationship with the woman who most people view as the savior of the free world, then you might want to refrain from kissing her in front of the whole damn city!"

Tom, fearing his father's laughter would wake Ashley and Sam, began shushing him. "Will you keep your voice down, please?" he asked. "We were only trying to keep it from the kids. Rachel wanted them to get to know her a little better first before they knew about our relationship."

Jed only shook his head slowly. "Lord, I thought that woman was smarter than that. Son, you should know better than that. You've always touted honesty with your kids above all else." Jed paused to wag his finger in Tom's face. "You'd better hope and pray that they don't find out before you want them to. They'll be crushed, and not for the reasons that you might think, either." Jed leaned forward in his chair. "Those children will always miss their mother. That's a given. But they need a mother, especially Ashley. She's growing up, and she's going to need a mother that she can come to about things that a father should never have to hear from his little girl. For weeks now, my grandchildren have talked non-stop about Rachel, especially Ashley. Have you got any idea what your daughter has been up to lately?"

Tom, confused and slightly worried, shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Evidently, your Rachel mentioned something during one of your conversations about having gone through her supply of tea. Ashley made me stop in at the little herbal market over on Ashford the next day. She made a deal with the owner – Ashley is making bracelets and trading them for tea. She's planning on surprising Rachel with it as a 'welcome home' gift. She's got quite a selection put aside, too," Jed finished beaming broadly over his granddaughter's thoughtful ingenuity.

Tom gave a genuine smile at the image his mind supplied of his little girl working hard on her jewelry creations just to be able to surprise Rachel. His kids were absolutely amazing. "I can't believe Ashley didn't tell me about it," he wondered aloud.

Jed just snorted. "She thought you'd not be able to 'keep a secret'. Little does she know, hmm?"

"Okay, Dad, I get it all right? I promise, once Rachel is home, we're going to tell the kids everything."

"Tommy, I'll be honest with you. I think sitting on this for another six weeks is a bad idea. People talk. They are talking. How do you think I found out about it anyway? As soon as the boys at the lodge found out who I was, they couldn't wait to ask me about you and Rachel. Face it, son, you and Rachel are heroes. You're the real deal, and the fact that you two are together? That's just icing on the cake. People love a good romance, son, and Rachel and you are literally the talk of the town. It's only a matter of time before one of the kids is going to hear about the two of you. It'll be a whole lot better coming from Rachel and you than from some busybody."

"But, Dad, that's what I'm trying to tell you. Rachel is coming home now! I'm taking a team in just a few hours and we're going to get her." Pure joy emanated from Tom as he told his father about Claire. "I promised Rachel I'd bring an outfit for her, just like I did for Ashley and Sam. I'm going to swing by The Commissary on my way out." A few weeks ago, Tom had overseen the opening of The Commissary. It was the brainchild of Kara Foster; she'd presented the idea to him on the first day they'd worked together in his new office, and Tom had told her to run with it. Every base used to have a commissary where military families could get almost anything. Kara had revamped that basic idea and completely renovated a warehouse by the river so that everything from clothing to food to basic medical supplies would be available in one location. Danny had jokingly dubbed it "Kara-Mart," but that wasn't too far from the truth. Tom had no doubt whatsoever that he could pick up something perfect for his new baby girl.

"You're bringing them here, aren't you?" Jed asked. He was already making a mental to-do list in preparation of the arrival of the woman he already secretly claimed as a daughter and her baby, his newest grandchild, Claire.

"I am. It'll be some big changes around here, though," Tom added hesitantly. "Ashley and Sam will be all right, won't they? It won't be too much for them at once?" Now that he'd spoken the words aloud, he was suddenly afraid. He had no doubt that once the kids got used to the idea, they really would be a happy family. But was he asking too much of them, too soon? He got so wrapped up in his mental turmoil that he didn't realize Jed had moved until his father settled his arm across Tom's shoulders.

"Listen to me, Tommy. You don't need to worry yourself about Ashley and Sam. They love Rachel, they truly do, and it's evident every time they talk about her. I think once they know about you and Rachel, they'll be thrilled. And Claire, well, of course they'll come to love her, too. After all, they know what it's like to lose a mother, and they'll understand that Claire has lost both of her parents. Once they realize that, like Claire, they're gaining a mother, you're going to have two extremely happy children on your hands. Will there be an adjustment period? Of course, there will, but I have no doubt that you and Rachel will make it work." He squeezed Tom's shoulders in assurance, and Tom reached up and patted his father's hand where it rested on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Dad, I needed that."

"Anytime, son, that's what fathers are for."

"Daddy," Ashley called softly from the stairs. She'd heard her dad and grandpa talking and couldn't resist going downstairs to investigate. She came into the living room and immediately went to her father, crawling in his lap just as she'd done when she was younger. "Why are you up so late?" she asked resting her head on his shoulder. Tom's strong arms wrapped tightly around his daughter, and he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Why are you up so late, pumpkin?" he asked briefly wondering how much, if anything, she'd heard of the conversation he'd just had with his father. He suspected that she must not have heard anything at all else she'd be demanding answers. Ashley had always been direct, a trait Tom knew she inherited from no one but him. A sleepy shrug came from Ashley.

"I heard Grandpa laughing, and it woke me up. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. I went to the bathroom to get some water, and I heard you talking. Is everything all right?"

"It is, and I'm sorry we woke you, pumpkin," Tom told her all the while glaring at his father. Jed's expression was the epitome of innocence. "But since you're awake, I've got some news to share with you. In the morning, I'm going to be leaving on a very short mission." Immediately awake, Ashley sat up so she could make eye contact with her father.

"Where are you going, and how long will you be gone?"

"I'm going up to St. Paul, and I should be home again tomorrow night, maybe even earlier in the day."

When Tom mentioned St. Paul, Ashley's eyes lit up. "Rachel's in St. Paul," she said excitedly. "Are you going to see Rachel? Why can't Sam and I come with you? She'd want to see us, I know she would!"

"As a matter of fact, she does want to see you," Tom explained. "But the reason that you and Sammy can't go is because there's no need for you to make the trip. I'm bringing Rachel home with me."

Ashley squealed happily and wrapped her arms around Tom's neck in an exuberant hug. "Is she coming home for good? Where is she going to stay? She doesn't have a house, you know, though she might want to stay with Bertrise and Kat and Mr. Tex. Oh, maybe she could stay with us! Do you think she'd want to? She could sleep in my room. I don't mind sharing, honest."

Tom couldn't help but chuckle at Ashley's animated excitement. He playfully clapped his hand over her mouth. "If you'll slow down making plans for everyone and let me get a word in edgewise, I'll try and answer some of your questions, deal?" When she nodded, he pulled his hand away slowly. "Let's see – yes, Rachel is coming home for good. As for where she's going to stay, well, we'll work all of that out once we get back. You see, honey, part of the reason why I need to go and get Rachel is because tonight some really bad people did something that hurt a lot of the people that Rachel and Uncle Mike and the others have been trying to help."

"Was it Immunes?" Ashley asked pointedly. "Like the man who shot Rachel when you first came to St. Louis?"

"Yes, sweetheart, that's what we think. Uncle Mike is looking for them now, but they've run away and they're hiding."

"You're going to get Rachel because you think they might go after her, too, aren't you, Daddy?"

Tom was momentarily astounded by the accurate perception of his twelve-year-old daughter. He'd always thought she was very mature for her age, but between what his father had told him tonight and what Ashley herself had just shared with him he understood at once that he had sorely underestimated his daughter. Ashley earnestly watched her father, her dark eyes open windows of concern and worry; overcome with emotion Tom struggled to find his voice.

"Yes, I am. President Michener and Uncle Mike and even Rachel all agree that it would be best for Rachel to come back to St. Louis where she can continue to work and where we can better protect her." He then explained to Ashley about Claire as best as he could without divulging the truth about his relationship with Rachel.

"Rachel really should come and stay with us, Dad," Ashley said when Tom had finished his explanation. "Since Rachel doesn't have any other kids, she'll need lots of help with Claire. You can help her, and so can I. I'm great with babies. Look at how I take care of Sammy nearly every day, and he's the biggest baby I know."

Tom threw back his head and laughed, unable to scold Ashley for her impish grin and wicked sense of humor. "Okay, Ash, okay," he told her once he'd gotten his laughter under control. "I promise that we'll help Rachel with Claire. You don't have to worry about that. But do your old man a favor and ease up on your kid brother, huh?"

"Okay, I promise," she mumbled sounding not altogether happy about the prospect. "But I need to do something for me, will you?" When Tom nodded, Ashley scampered off his lap and headed for the stairs. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Dad. I have something I want you to take with you for Claire." When she disappeared from view, Tom turned to his own father.

"Dad, I know it's a lot to ask, and I'm not expecting anything fancy or detailed, either, but do you think you and the kids could…"

"Clean out the spare bedroom?" Jed finished Tom's thought a merry twinkle in his blue eyes. "Already one step ahead of you, Son."

"You usually are, Dad, you usually are. If you can find a cradle or a bassinet, something we can use for Claire, that'd be great to start with. Once Rachel and I get back, we can make a list of everything else we'll need."

"Let me worry about some of that, Tommy. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve that might just surprise you," Jed hinted mysteriously already thinking that he'd be on Tex Nolan's doorstep first thing in the morning to enlist the help of Kat and Bertrise, both of whom he had no doubt would jump at the chance to help him get things ready for Rachel. "You just get your girls home safe."

They were interrupted by Ashley's reappearance. She entered the living room carrying a blanket that Tom had not seen since the day Darien had lovingly packed it away sometime after Ashley had started kindergarten. She passed the folded blanket, still smelling of lavender and vanilla from the sachet that Darien had placed with the blanket, to Tom's outstretched hands. "It's my baby blanket, the one that Grandma Chandler made for me."

Tom ran his hands across the material, now butter-soft from hundreds of washings, recalling how his mother had begun to joyously stitch the quilt in girlish shades of pink and green, even though at the time they only knew that they were expecting a baby – it had been far too early in Darien's pregnancy to learn the baby's sex. Yet his mother had worked on the blanket nonstop until she'd finished it. Patchwork on one side and lined with the softest knit on the other, Ashley had dragged the blanket after her until she'd started kindergarten and deemed herself to "big" to tote a security blanket around any longer.

"Do you think Rachel will like it?" Ashley asked shyly pulling Tom from his musings. He reached with one hand to cup Ashley's cheek before tenderly kissing her forehead.

"She'll love it, sweetheart. Thank you for thinking of it and for being willing to share it with Claire."

"No, Daddy, I don't just want to share it with Claire," Ashley corrected her father. "I want Claire to use it and to keep it. It's hers forever."

"Pumpkin, that's very thoughtful of you, but your grandmother made this for you and her intention was for you to be able to use it with your children one day," Tom protested but Ashley only shook her head.

"No, Daddy, I think you're wrong. Grandma would want me give it to someone who truly needed. She always said that we should think of others first, right, Grandpa?" Ashley appealed to her grandfather who nodded in agreement.

"See, Daddy, Grandpa agrees with me. It was my blanket, and I believe that Claire needs it more than I do. Think about it. Claire doesn't have anything, and if it weren't for Rachel, she wouldn't have anyone! We lost Mom, Dad, but even then, Sammy and I still have you and Grandpa." Tears brimming in her dark eyes, Ashley continued passionately, "So many people have lost their entire families, Daddy, people like Claire who will never even know her birth parents. How can I be so selfish in trying to hold onto a blanket when it can be used by someone who really needs it? I want Claire to have it, Daddy, and I think that Grandma would see it my way, too. Rachel and Claire don't have anyone besides each other so they need us to help them!"

Tom gathered Ashley to him, trying to keep his own tears at bay. "You're right, Ash, you're right. Thank you, pumpkin," he whispered earnestly.

Ashley looked at her father, confusion marring her pretty features. "What did I do?" She truly didn't believe that she'd done anything more than any other normal person would have.

"For being an incredible human being, pumpkin, and for being the most wonderful daughter that a father could ever hope for," Tom told her as he brushed a tender kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Ash."

"I love you, too, Daddy." Hugging her father once more, she turned and headed for the stairs. "Be careful tomorrow, and come home safe."

"I will, pumpkin, I will."

*************************************************

Tom stood outside the helicopter, his body still, but his eyes, roving, searching, taking stock of his surroundings from every available angle. His pilot was waiting in the cockpit ready to take off at a moment's notice. Three armed snipers were positioned around the bird, just in case, and Sasha Cooper stood at his side. He'd asked her to accompany him, knowing her skills in hand to hand combat to be nearly unmatched. With Wolf and Burke on board the James, Tom wanted to bring the best available to him in St. Louis, and that meant Sasha.

For her part, Sasha had jumped at the opportunity, curious to meet this "savior" that everyone was talking about and more importantly, to decide for herself just what the relationship was between Tom Chandler and Rachel Scott. Sasha hoped it would prove to be nothing more than friendship as she really, really wanted to have her own kind of fun with Tom Chandler. She knew he was a widower, and she hoped he'd soon be in the market for someone to warm his bed. Part of why she'd accepted his invitation to accompany him on his little mission was to test the waters between them. She'd hoped to get a feel for where he stood so she could better strategize her battle plan. Years in the intelligence community had taught her well - you never launched an offensive without a perfectly executed plan of attack. When a non-descriptive SUV pulled up a few moments later and a slender woman with waist-length chestnut hair came flying out of the back seat and straight into Chandler's open arms, it took Sasha all of two seconds to scrap her pending plan for Operation Seduce Thomas Chandler.

Chandler held Rachel in his arms, her legs wrapped completely around his waist, heedless of the other people looking on. They made love with their mouths, and just when Sasha thought they'd completely lost all sense of decorum and were about to hit the ground and screw each other's brains out, Rachel unlocked her legs and slid down Chandler's body in as sensuous a move as Sasha had ever seen. Chandler continued dusting kisses across Rachel's face, his fingers tangling in the tips of her hair. Chandler was whispering to her, asking her a question, or so Sasha perceived from her vantage point. Rachel smiled in response and turned back to the SUV. A graceful motion of one delicate hand produced a sight which nearly sent Sasha's jaw to the ground in shock. A ruggedly handsome soldier exited the vehicle holding of all things a baby carrier. The soldier delivered the carrier to Chandler and Rachel, who then reached into the seat and withdrew a baby that if Sasha had to bet couldn't be more than a few days old. Rachel passed the baby to Chandler who kissed the child's head before drawing Rachel in for another lengthy kiss. An ear-splitting wail from the child finally broke apart the adults who grinned at each other sheepishly. After that things moved rapidly. The soldier had taken the time during the second round of Chandler and Rachel's reunion to retrieve a large duffel bag, a CDC case, a laptop bag, and a diaper bag. He ran these items over to the helicopter and stowed them away with a hasty "Ma'am" offered in her direction in an Australian accent. The soldier then parted company with Chandler and Rachel, shaking the former's hand after a salute and hugging the latter. He touched the baby's cheek in farewell and headed back to the SUV. The goodbye was extended briefly when another soldier, this one dark skinned and equally as handsome as the Australian, stepped from the driver's seat to repeat the process. Well, if all the men of the Nathan James were as hot as the two she'd just glimpsed, Sasha figured she wouldn't have to search too much to find someone to amuse her. Rachel was welcome to Chandler, Sasha decided. She'd be just fine going through the roster once the James made port. Then the happy couple were in front of her. Chandler motioned two of the snipers into the bird and handed Rachel and the baby up into the craft. Rachel seated herself and quickly buckled in before reaching for the baby. Sasha and the remaining sniper were next, and when Sasha realized Rachel was about to unbuckle herself in order to reach the diaper bag, Sasha grabbed it and put it within reach at Rachel's feet. Rachel grinned at her in thanks, and Sasha watched as Rachel took a pacifier from the bag and popped it into the baby's mouth. Chandler climbed in the bird last and pulled a bag from underneath his seat. He switched the baby for the bundle and said to Rachel, "Go on, honey, open it." Rachel opened the bag and softly gasped at what Sasha surmised was a baby blanket.

"Tom, it's absolutely gorgeous!" Rachel exclaimed. "Wherever did you find it?"

Chandler grinned broadly. "Don't thank me, Rach. This is Ashley's doing. She overheard my conversation with Dad last night, and she wanted you to have the blanket for Claire. My mom made it for Ashley. Keep looking, though," Chandler instructed looking for all the world like a kid at Christmas. Rachel did as he asked and pulled out the tiniest outfit Sasha had ever seen. Ivory with little roses in dual shades of pink, the gift clearly pleased Rachel who pressed a joyous kiss to Chandler's cheek.

"Do you like them?" Chandler's question was completely unnecessary to Sasha as even a blind man could see the absolute rapture on Rachel's face as she leaned her head against Chandler's shoulder.

"I love them, darling," the British woman assured him. "And I love you, so, so much."

"I love you, too, Rach," Chandler told her as he slipped his arm around her shoulders effectively holding both her and the baby -Claire, Chandler had referred to the infant - in his embrace.

From behind her black sunglasses, Sasha watched the little family - and family, the three plainly were; though unfamiliar with the particulars, Sasha would stake her life on the bond visible between Chandler and Rachel Scott. That bond extended to the infant in their shared embrace, who slept the entire trip back to St. Louis along with her mother, for in Sasha's extremely observant eye it was blatantly obvious that while Rachel may not have given birth to Claire, she was the child's mother. That knowledge only made Sasha more determined in her own mission though she dreaded what she was going to reveal to Chandler -and to Rachel - now that they were back in St. Louis. She knew that Chandler was going to hold a debriefing for Rachel at his office in the Old Courthouse before they all headed home. President Michener would be there, too, and Sasha momentarily cursed the hand that fate had dealt her. There was one minor detail that Sasha had left out of her meeting with Chandler the night before - all because they hadn't been alone. Her impromptu traveling companion, Michael Crain, had been present the entire time she'd met with Chandler. Now, though, Sasha planned on telling Chandler and Rachel what she knew to be the truth; first, the newly installed Chinese government was determined to apprehend Rachel Scott at all costs, and second, she strongly suspected that Michael Crain was working with the Chinese. Sometimes, she really, really hated her job.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note – A thousand and one apologies for the delay between postings. But, were barely two weeks away from the premiere of Season 3, and I promise that this story will be wrapped up before the premiere airs. Many thanks to Scousedancer for her awesome beta skills and to all the gals over at our little Block Party for their support and friendship!**

 **XOXO,**

 **Kate**

Chapter 9

As soon as the helo landed, Tom barked out several orders to Sasha before ushering Rachel and Claire into his office. Both of his girls had slept solid during the trip home, but Claire had awakened as soon as they had exited the chopper. His tiny, little newborn daughter was now screaming blue murder as Tom shut his office doors behind them. Rachel, still bleary eyed from what probably amounted to a couple hours' sleep out of the last forty-eight, cradled Claire in one arm while fumbling with a prefilled bottle with the other. Tom, no stranger to screaming newborns, simply pushed Rachel onto the sofa and took the bottle from her, placing it in Claire's mouth mid-shriek. The baby began sucking hungrily at the proffered sustenance, and after only a few seconds, her eyes closed in bliss and the tremors which had wracked her small frame ceased. Tom and Rachel exhaled in relief as one before Tom eased himself down on the sofa behind Rachel and tugged at her shoulders to bring her into his embrace. Strong arms slipped around her until one hand helped her support Claire's head and the other rested against the warmth of Rachel's abdomen.

"Our baby girl sure doesn't mind letting us know what she needs," Tom whispered gruffly in Rachel's ear.

"That she does not, my love," Rachel murmured. "Tom, did I do the right thing?" Her tone was hesitant, but her gaze never wavered from the baby in her arms. Tom dropped a kiss to Rachel's hair before running his left hand over Claire's downy head.

"Yes, Rachel." The absolute conviction in Tom's voice went a long way to erasing any doubt in Rachel's heart. "If you hadn't taken Claire, there's no telling what would have happened to her. You and I can give her a real chance, a loving family, a home. It won't be easy, Rach, but together you and I can do anything, sweetheart."

Rachel briefly turned her head towards Tom, nuzzling her face against his neck. "I've never believed much in fate, but right now, at this moment, I have to believe that there is something, some higher power, that brought me to you, Thomas Chandler, and for that alone, I will be eternally grateful. But loving you, being loved by you, well, I think that just might be the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me."

Sliding his hand from her belly to her cheek, Tom tenderly kissed Rachel's mouth. The contact, though chaste for the two of them, was nonetheless infused with love. "Our adventure together has only begun, honey. We've come so far already, you and I, and there are many more trials that are ahead for us. But I promise that we will make every step together, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you or our children. In a little while, I'm going to take you home, and we're going to introduce Claire to the rest of her family, and we're going to tell Ash and Sammy about us. But before we can do that, we've got to finish up here first. In just a few minutes, the President and his Chief of Staff will arrive along with Cooper and Green. Just hold on a little longer, baby, and soon we'll be home. Can you do that for me?"

Rachel, who was indeed as close to dead tired as she'd ever been, nodded her assent. "I'm with you, my love. I can do anything as long as you're with me."

"That's my girl," Tom replied with a tiny smirk at the way Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly at the use of _girl._ "Now, hand me our daughter so that I can burp her while you rest for just a minute." Rachel passed Claire to Tom who got a burp out of her within seconds. He held the baby close, murmuring sentiments that Rachel couldn't quite make out. She took joy in watching him with Claire, the love he had for their little girl already evident. Rachel had never put much stock in fairy tales; the religious rigidity of her father had made certain that the stories of Rachel's early childhood had come from the Bible and his narrow-minded interpretation of scripture. But only a couple of months into this life she'd chosen with Tom had already opened her heart to more love and more faith than she would have ever dreamt possible. Thomas Chandler was one in a million, and Rachel vowed silently as she watched him lower Claire into her carrier as if the child were the most precious thing in the world to him that she would never take him for granted.

Feeling her eyes on him, Tom met her gaze before sitting back down on the sofa next to her. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "What is it, Rach?" he asked, not quite certain what to make of the look in her eyes.

"I love you, Tom, so much that it takes my breath away at times," she gushed, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

"That's a good thing, sweetheart, because I feel exactly the same." He pulled her into his arms and slanted his mouth over hers again and again until _both_ of them were breathless. He'd missed her so much, and now that he had her again, in his arms, under his hands, Tom wanted nothing more than to lock the doors to his office and spend the next several hours getting reacquainted with every inch of the woman he loved. So it was with a very heavy heart that he put Rachel away from him, forcing his libido into submission through sheer force of will. "Rachel, honey, there is something that I need to tell you before the others arrive. It's important, and I want you to hear it from me first because it concerns you directly." When she gestured for him to continue, he told her all about Sasha's arrival.

"And Captain Cooper – Sasha – she's the woman you brought with you today?" Rachel asked for clarification, and Tom nodded. "Well, clearly she's quite capable to have gotten all the way here from China. I can certainly understand why you felt comfortable in bringing her along. But what's so important about how she arrived here? What does it have to do with me?" She was genuinely confused and growing slightly alarmed at whatever Tom was holding back.

"Sasha didn't come alone, Rach. There were others on the boat with her when she left China, and one of them, an American, turned out to be immune as well. When they docked in California, they were the only survivors. They made their way here together, and I met with them last night before I came to get you. Rachel, the man is Michael Crain. He's alive and he's here in St. Louis."

Rachel blinked in surprise, speech having deserted her momentarily. _Michael was alive?_ She'd worried about him for months, and after their gruesome discovery in Dr. Hunter's Florida lab, Rachel had resigned herself to the fact that Michael was most likely dead. To learn now that Michael was alive and well and in town seemed like nothing short of a miracle to Rachel or perhaps it would be if not for the stormy look on Tom's face.

"There's something more that you aren't telling me, my love; what is it," Rachel asked as she reached out for Tom's hand. She received a reassuring squeeze in return before Tom spoke again.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, maybe I'm being foolish, but I'm just afraid. We've only just found one another, and I don't want to lose you." Smiling gently at Tom's blatant honesty, Rachel wrapped her arms around him, cuddling as close to him as she could get.

"Oh, my darling, haven't you been listening over these months each time I've poured my heart out to you? I'm in love with you, Thomas Chandler, and I choose you and our children. You're who I want, not Michael, nor anyone else. While I'm certainly glad that someone whom I cared for has survived this horrific virus, you must believe me when I say that I want nothing more from Michael Crain than to wish him well and send him on his way."

"I do believe you, Rachel, I believe in us," he told her. "I guess I'm a little insecure."

Rachel chuffed at him. "You've not got an insecure bone in your body." Then they both chuckled, and Tom lovingly brushed the hair back from Rachel's face.

"What can I say, Dr. Scott? When it comes to you, I'm not sure if I'm coming or going," he whispered in her ear before trailing tiny kisses down the length of her slender neck. Rachel tilted her head to give him better access, gasping at the sensations he created.

"Allow me to relieve some of your confusion, Admiral," Rachel murmured as she drew his mouth back to hers. "At some point tonight, you will definitely be coming." Before Tom could muster up even a remotely coherent response to that, they were interrupted by a knock on his office door. "It would appear our friends are early," Rachel remarked as she disengaged herself from Tom's embrace and accepted his hand up.

"Then let's see what they have to say. The sooner we get finished, the sooner we can get home." Tom's voice was low, the sound of it skittering along Rachel's spine settling deep in her belly and fanning the flames of passion already smoldering there. His eyes never leaving hers, Tom called out, "Come in."

Sasha entered alone and saluted Tom. "Forgive the intrusion, sir, but I need to speak with you and Dr. Scott privately."

Tom nodded his assent. "Go ahead, Captain."

Sasha, who'd never been one to drag her feet, got straight to the point and addressed Rachel directly. "I have reason to believe that the Chinese government is after you, Dr. Scott. They intend to apprehend you at all costs, and I believe that a man who traveled home with me from China, a man with whom you were once involved, is working with them. His name is Michael Crain."

A moment of stunned silence descended upon the room until Rachel burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, but that is the most absurd thing I've ever heard! Tom, really, you can't possibly believe this." But one glance at Tom told Rachel that he did, in fact, believe his captain's tale. Not willing to surrender her own belief just yet, Rachel spun back to Sasha. "Where's your proof, Captain?"

Sasha, not the least bit troubled by Rachel's remarks, explained, "I don't have anything concrete, but I know what my gut tells me. There are too many holes in Michael's story, but in the beginning, I thought that he was just running from something. He never seemed a threat to me until we got closer to St. Louis. He'd been talking about you nonstop, Dr. Scott, and at first, I thought it was just because he missed you. But then we began hearing radio chatter about your trips along the Mississippi, and he changed. He became panicked that he wouldn't be able to find you. We'd just reached Colorado City, and Michael became determined to go directly to St. Paul. When I refused, he became extremely violent, so much so that I had no choice but to pull my gun on him. Then he took off on his own."

Eyes narrowed in suspicion and arms crossed over her chest, Rachel asked, "Then how is it that you arrived in St. Louis together last night?"

Sasha was quick to reply. "Simple, Dr. Scott, a few days after Michael left, I stopped in Topeka to restock supplies and rest for a few days. Imagine my surprise when I ran into Michael there. Now, I'm pretty good with navigation, if I do say so myself; so if Michael were going to St. Paul to find you, he'd have taken a left turn from Colorado City and kept going north." Sasha couldn't keep the smirk off her face. She'd heard so much about Dr. Scott, about the woman people were calling the Savior, and after she'd seen first-hand the type of loyalty the woman inspired, Sasha was fairly certain all of the things she'd heard were true. But the one thing Sasha could not abide was having her judgment called into question by anyone, even the Savior of the free world.

Rachel, recognizing a worthy opponent, found herself liking this woman immensely, despite the things she was saying about Michael. "Yes, well, left turns aside, Captain Cooper, it's a monumental leap from Michael deciding not to go to St. Paul and him willing to sell me out to the Chinese!"

At the sound of her mother's voice, Claire startled in her carrier, and Rachel went to her baby and immediately scooped her into her arms. The baby quieted at once, and Sasha understood what she needed to say in order to convince Dr. Scott that what she suspected was true. She could tell that Chandler already believed her – whether it was because he truly sensed danger from Michael Crain or because he saw the man as a threat to his relationship with Rachel, Sasha couldn't say. Either way, she had Chandler in her corner, and now she only needed to get Dr. Scott there, too. Otherwise, she feared that the Chinese would make a move and land them smack in the middle of a post-apocalyptic war on American soil.

"Look, Dr. Scott, I understand that this is a lot to take in, but it really is true. The odds of Michael catching up to me in Topeka by chance were astronomical. Our original plan had been to go through Wichita and then head northeast to St. Louis. But as I got closer, I heard that the roads were pretty impassable on the way to Wichita because of flooding so I changed my mind."

"Doesn't it seem as though Michael might have learned the same news?" Rachel proposed; still not ready to accept that her erstwhile lover planned to betray her.

"It's possible," Sasha was forced to concede. "But it would be one hell of a coincidence, and I just don't believe in coincidences." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, black electronic device, about the size of a dime. "Especially after I found this in my pack," she continued and tossed it towards Chandler who caught it one-handed. "The tech is Chinese, military grade, and I didn't find it until after Michael left me in Colorado City. I believe he planted it in order to keep track of my movements, and if I'm correct, then you are in real danger, Dr. Scott, not only you, but your daughter, too."

"But if Michael were really after me, then why would he turn around and go find you? Why come all the way to St. Louis? Surely, it would have been easier to get to me while I was still on the _James_ …if, as you say, he really is working with the Chinese," Rachel added with far more bravado than she felt.

"I could speculate all day long, Dr. Scott, but to be perfectly honest, I feel like that would be a waste of our time. What I'd like to do is bring him in and question him. I have my own sources within the new Chinese government, and I know for a fact that there is already fighting between President Li and his advisors. President Li is young and headstrong; he's power hungry, and he believes that the best way forward is to have every resource left in our world under his thumb. But he does have a group of advisors who are older, wiser, and don't agree with Li's 'global outreach' plans."

"What do you suggest, Captain?" Tom asked knowing good and well that his newly acquired intelligence officer more than likely had developed a well-thought plan to put a stop to this latest threat. On paper, Sasha was the best in Naval Intelligence, and though he'd been in her presence less than twenty-four hours, Tom was thoroughly impressed.

"We need to get President Li and his advisors here, on US soil. We need to invite them over, wine and dine them, all the while showing them that our military and our government are as strong as they've ever been. They need to meet with President Michener, and with you, sir, and Dr. Scott. We need to parade every ranking military officer in front of them that we can round up. Let them visit Dr. Scott's lab and talk with her people, share her findings on the virus with them. We need to make them allies, sir, and quickly. If we don't, well, the effects of inaction could be disastrous."

"And you really believe that throwing what amounts to a _party_ in their honor will be enough to convince a foreign government that we can all just be friends?" Rachel asked, incredulity dripping from her tongue.

"It's risky," Tom admitted already warming up to the idea. "But it just might work."

"I'm sorry, but can we all just step back for five minutes, please," Rachel interrupted. "I'm still having a little trouble with the scenario that my ex-lover is a, a bloody terrorist! Tom, it's, it's preposterous!" Tears were beginning to pool in her eyes, exhaustion and frustration chipping away at the walls that she normally kept erect when dealing with difficult situations. Claire began whimpering against Rachel, picking up on her mother's anxiety, and Tom put his hands on Rachel's shoulders, squeezing them slowly and soothingly.

"Rach, honey, please calm down, okay? I promise everything will be all right. We will get to the bottom of this, we will find the truth. Do you trust me?"

Some of the fear in Rachel's eyes fell away, and she answered quietly, "Of course, I trust you, Tom, more than anyone."

"Then trust me to do what's best in this matter, sweetheart," his voice was loving but firm, and Rachel found herself nodding in agreement. In truth, it lifted some of her burden to be able to share in this with him. For so long, she'd walked alone, never sharing her true self with anyone; unable to do so because she'd stopped really trusting in people the day that her father had allowed her mother to die. But in Tom she'd found a man whom she trusted implicitly – with her heart and her life. Smiling lovingly up at him, Rachel knew that he would do absolutely anything to protect her and heaven help anyone who stood in his way.

"Cooper, we're going to have a slight change in plans," Tom addressed his subordinate, one arm still wrapped around Rachel's shoulders. "Rachel and I are going to go home for a bit. We need to get Claire settled and talk with our family. I want you to fill in the others when they arrive, and tell them that your plan has my full support. I also want you to have someone pick up Michael Crain. If you think there's a chance that he won't come, then tell him that Rachel wants to see him."

"But, Tom, are you sure that's wise?" Rachel asked, genuinely surprised that he'd consider letting her meet with Michael.

"I didn't say he'd get to see you, Rach. He just needs to think that he will. Cooper, you go at him when he gets here. Have Green sit in with you."

"Yes, sir," Sasha complied. "Shall I tell the others that you and Dr. Scott will return at 13:00 hours? That should give you time with your family."

"That will be fine, Captain. You're dismissed." When Sasha was gone, Tom took Claire from Rachel and placed the baby in her carrier. Hefting the carrier, he passed Rachel the diaper bag and took her hand. "Come on, babe, it's time to go home."

When Tom and Rachel arrived home with Claire, Jed, Ashley and Sam were there to greet them. Joyful greetings were exchanged all around, and when at last they settled in the living room, Tom wasn't the least bit surprised to find Ashley and Sam situated on either side of Rachel on the couch. They were both so excited to see Rachel that they were beside themselves, trying to gain her attention by talking over each other, not to mention gushing over the baby in Rachel's arms. Rachel did her best to keep up with them, laughing at their antics, but Tom could read the exhaustion in her eyes; he knew he needed to step in and take control.

"All right, you two turkeys," Tom said, gaining the attention of his offspring at last. "I know you're happy that Rachel and Claire are home, but we need to talk to you right now, and then Rachel needs to rest just a little before she and I have to go back to the Capital, understand?"

"Yes, sir," they answered simultaneously. Tom held Rachel's gaze for a split second, trying to gage how she wanted to move forward. The tiny nod of her head and the silent plea in her amber eyes told him all he needed to know.

"Ashley, Sammy, there's something that Rachel and I would like you both to know," Tom began but was quickly interrupted by his son.

"What about Grandpa, does he need to know?"

"I already know, Sammy," Jed responded. "Just listen to your father, okay?" Sammy settled down, leaning against Rachel and wrapping both of his arms around one of hers.

"Rachel and Claire are going to be staying with us from now on, that is, if it's okay with the two of you," Tom said. He watched his two oldest children like a hawk, but so far only happiness registered on their faces. Then Ashley turned to Rachel.

"You're really going to live with us?" Ashley asked.

"How do you feel about that, sweetheart?" Rachel asked hesitantly.

"I think that's great, Rachel! I told Dad the same thing last night, didn't I, Daddy?" Ashley didn't pause long enough to allow Tom a response. "I told Daddy that you could sleep in my room. Or maybe you'd rather sleep in the guest room with Claire? That's where we set up her crib."

Her heart flipped at the notion that these precious children and their grandfather had already set up a crib for her baby, but she didn't really have the time to dwell on it just then. "Um, actually, sweetheart, your father and I have something a little different in mind," Rachel explained gently, and Tom stepped in to help her.

"Ashley, Sammy, you know how much I loved your mom, don't you?"

"Of course, Dad," Sammy responded with a shrug of his little shoulders. It was a bit one-sided, though, as he was still glued to Rachel. Ashley, who'd allowed Claire to wrap one of her fists around her index finger, looked up sharply at Tom's question, the pieces of the puzzle which had been flittering around the edges of her mind's eye quickly forming a new picture.

"Dad, are you trying to say that you and Rachel are together, like, together, together?" she asked, dark brown eyes boring into her father's blue ones.

"Yes, honey, that's what we wanted to tell you. Rachel and I are in love," Tom finished, trying to read his pre-teen daughter, but somewhere over the last six months, his daughter had developed a poker face that left him guessing.

"How do you…feel about that, sweetheart?" Rachel asked, partly terrified to hear the young girl's answer, but Ashley remained silent, still holding Claire's hand and softly stroking it. Sammy, on the other hand, suffered from no such reservations, nearly squeezing the circulation out of Rachel's arm.

"I think it's awesome!" he exclaimed. "Hey, Rachel, Dad told us last night that you're Claire's mom now because her parents died."

"That's right, Sammy," she answered and he beamed broadly at her.

"Does that mean that you can be my mom now? I mean, since you're my dad's girlfriend and all?" There wasn't a trace of guile in the little boy's manner, his hazel eyes earnest and open as he looked to Rachel to grant his request.

"I can be whomever you wish for me to be, Samuel," Rachel said, trying not to weep. With only two questions, Sammy had her completely undone.

"How long?" Ashley asked quietly.

"What do mean, pumpkin?" Tom countered.

"How long have you and Rachel been together?" she clarified, and Rachel decided to field the question.

"Since the night before I left to go upriver on the _James_ , darling."

"So all of the times that we talked to you, the times when you and Dad would talk by yourselves, you were really a couple," Ashley pushed. "Why did you wait so long to tell us?" Rachel studied the young girl before her carefully and was astonished to find that what she'd actually feared was the motivator behind Ashley's reticence was something altogether different. There was genuine confusion in Ashley's eyes, confusion that Rachel quickly understood didn't stem from any kind of resentment about her father moving on from her mother.

"We thought it was for the best, Ashley," Tom answered before Rachel could reply. All three adults and Sammy were stunned when Ashley jumped to her feet and pushed angrily passed her father.

"Well, you thought wrong!" was Ashley's angry retort. Tom made a move to grab her, but Ashley was halfway up the stairs before he could fully function. He started after her, completely floored that his baby girl was behaving in such a complete contrast to how she'd been the night before. A hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks, and he looked down to find Rachel standing in front of him and holding out Claire.

"You tend to this one and let me have a go at her sister, all right, love? I think I've got an idea of what's going on." Unable to do anything other than take hold of the baby, Tom stepped back to allow Rachel to climb the stairs. Then he turned to his father and tried to hand Claire to him in order to follow Rachel.

"Not that I'm averse to holding my new granddaughter," Jed said with a twinkle in his eye. "But I think you'd best sit this one out, son. Give Rachel a chance to talk to Ashley on her own. They know where to find you if they need you," he finished, clapping Tom on the back and directing him to sit next to Sammy on the couch.

Tom looked to his son, who'd picked up his book from the coffee table and was already engrossed in the story. "Hey, Sammy, do you why your sister is so upset?" Sammy nodded, but didn't pause in his reading.

"Do you maybe want to let your old man in on the secret?" he prompted, shooting a mock glare at his own father when Jed took Claire from him, chuckling the whole time. Sammy cast a glance towards the stairs before sighing heavily and closing his book.

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you, Dad? Girls are weird, and sometimes, they get really, really weird. Don't worry, though, you'll get used to it," he stated emphatically, prompting Jed to laugh even harder.

Upstairs, Rachel tentatively knocked on Ashley's bedroom door. "Go away, Daddy," was the response she received.

"Ashley, it's me," Rachel spoke through the closed door. "May I come in?" She could hear nothing in the silence at first, but then she detected muffled footsteps just before the door clicked open, swinging wide to allow Rachel to step inside. She pushed the door closed behind her and motioned to the foot of Ashley's bed. "May I?" Ashley nodded and settled herself against her headboard, knees drawn protectively to her chest.

Several moments passed in tense silence as Rachel waited for Ashley to speak. Then, as though she'd decided that it was time to move forward, Ashley lifted her head and met Rachel's gaze head on. "I thought we were friends," she stated in a somewhat petulant tone.

"Ashley, sweetheart," Rachel began, but Ashley held her hand up, effectively silencing Rachel.

"I just don't understand why you kept this from me," she continued. "I mean, I get why you guys might not have wanted to tell Sammy right away, but I could have handled it. I feel like you lied to me, Rachel, and I don't like feeling that way! Daddy still wants to treat me like a baby, and I'm not a little girl anymore. Why does he keep on treating me like one?"

Her suspicions confirmed, and to a degree, relieved, Rachel reached out and took Ashley's hand, pleased when the girl didn't pull away from her. "Ashley, there's something that I need to explain to you. Actually, there are quite a few things that I need to share with you, but to begin with, you should know that it wasn't your father's idea to keep our relationship from you and Sam. It was mine."

Wide eyes lifted to Rachel's, tears brimming. "But why?" came Ashley's anguished response. "Was it because of us? Were you not sure you…wanted us?"

"Oh, no, my darling, that isn't it at all!" Rachel exclaimed, squeezing Ashley's hand tightly and lifting her free hand to wipe at the tears spilling down the young girl's cheeks. "There's never been a doubt in my mind as to how I feel about you and your little brother. I love you both, very much, and I hope that one day you'll come to love me. You see, I was afraid that you weren't ready to accept me, and I begged your father to keep silent until you and Sam had the chance to get to know me." She paused to tenderly push back the dark curtain of hair from Ashley's face. "I need to tell you a story, Ashley, is that all right?"

"Okay," Ashley agreed readily. "But let's stretch out on my bed. We'll be more comfortable." Rachel allowed Ashley to get situated before she lowered herself next to the young girl. Hope unfurled in Rachel's chest when Ashley did not let go of her hand, and in an imitation of many chats that Rachel recalled with her own mother, she began to speak.

"When I was a little girl, my parents were missionaries all over the world. I traveled with them, and by the time I was nine years old, we'd settled in a village in Uganda. Our life wasn't easy, but it was good because we were together. My father was very strict, but my mother, she was so kind and gentle that it more than made up for my father's withdrawn nature. It was summer when we arrived in Uganda, and there was an outbreak of Malaria. Do you know what that is?"

Ashley was thoughtful for a second before she shook her head. "It's a disease," she said at last. "But that's all."

"You're very bright, Ashley, do you know that?" Rachel grinned at her before continuing her tale. "It is a disease, and a rather nasty one, at that. It makes the victim very, very ill, and without proper treatment, death is inevitable. But there are medicines that can cure the illness, and there were doctors and nurses close to the village where my parents and I were living. They were treating and curing the people who'd fallen ill, but when my mother became sick, my father refused to allow the doctors to help her."

Ashley gasped, a horrified expression taking over her features. "But why, why wouldn't your dad want to help your mom, Rachel?"

Rachel placed both of her hands around Ashley's and pressed a kiss to her knuckles in an instinctual gesture of comfort. "My father was a very religious man, and he had an extremely stern outlook on what he believed the Bible says. He believed that only God could heal my mother, and he refused to accept medical intervention. For weeks he prayed over my mother. He'd kneel at her sick bed for hours at a time, crying out to God and pleading for my mother's life. But in the end, my father's prayers were not enough, and my mother died," Rachel finished quietly.

"Oh, Rachel," Ashley whispered solemnly. "I'm so, so sorry about your mother!"

"And I'm sorry about yours, darling," Rachel responded. "No child should have to lose a parent so young. I won't lie to you, Ashley; the loss of your mother will change you, has changed you, and it leaves a void inside of you. But that void can be filled, and that's something that I've only learned recently. I hope that I can help you to learn that early on. I've spent my life keeping people at arms' length, and the only person who has suffered from that is me. I don't want you and Sammy and Claire to have to go through your lives with that kind of pain." Rachel paused, afraid that she might be sharing too much with her young charge, but the understanding in Ashley's warm, brown eyes spoke of a maturity that went far beyond her years.

"Don't you understand, Rachel?" Ashley asked in the silence. "You've already helped me, helped all us, really. But I just, I'm still confused about why you wouldn't have just told us about you and Dad right away."

Rachel cleared her throat, trying to speak around the emotions presently taking residence in her vocal chords. "Three months after my mother's death, my father remarried. My new stepmother was very young, she was only 18, and I was about to turn 10. Her parents were missionaries, and they adhered to the same narrow view of religion as my father. The first time that I met her was the day of the wedding, when her family brought her to my father."

"Was she nice?"

"I really don't know. I was still too wrapped up in my grief over my mother, and I probably was not very kind to Martha – that was her name, by the way. At any rate, I hid from nearly everyone for the remainder of the day, and the next morning, my father left on an extended trip into the desert to hold services at several of the more remote villages. He was gone for a month, and I was left with Martha, and she, with me. Neither of us really knew what to do with the other, and so she fell back on the example of her own upbringing, that being children were to be seen and not heard. If I behaved in any way that pleased her, then things between us were peaceful. Unfortunately, I've a bit of a stubborn streak, so I rarely pleased her," Rachel finished with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She really didn't want to go into further details with Ashley just yet, and Ashley, bless her heart, must have picked up on Rachel's reticence.

"What happened after your dad came back?" she asked, running her thumb across Rachel's hand as it still clasped her own.

"One of the doctors who'd wanted to treat my mother was very good friends with my grandmother – my mother's mother – and he sent a letter to my grandmother back in England, informing her of my father's new marriage and how unhappy I was. My grandmother was an extremely formidable woman, and she didn't take too kindly to my father's treatment of me. She came to Uganda to retrieve me. My father tried to protest, but my grandmother exerted a lot of influence in many circles, including the Church of England's mission board. When she threatened to have his support pulled, he relented at once. My grandmother took me to her home in England and promptly enrolled me in boarding school."

"What happened to your father and stepmother?"

"I never saw them again. Two years later, my grandmother was informed that they'd both been killed by militants who had attacked the village where they were living. The next year, my grandmother died from a heart attack, and I was left an orphan in every sense of the word."

"You're not alone anymore, Rachel," Ashley whispered fervently. "You have us now, all of us."

Smiling through her tears, Rachel leaned down and kissed Ashley's forehead. "Sweet girl," she murmured. "I never meant to hurt you. Will you forgive me? I only wanted to spare you what was done to me – having a new mother thrust on you when your grief over your mum is still so fresh. Do you understand why I asked your father to wait? "

"I do, Rachel, and I'm sorry, too." Ashley lowered her eyes, suddenly shy. Had they not been so close to one another, Rachel probably wouldn't have understood Ashley's words. "Rachel, is it…okay if I ask you something?"

"You may ask me anything, darling, anything at all. Though I can't promise that I can answer your questions, you have my word that I'll be honest with you." Rachel felt the need to add that particular stipulation as she didn't have the first idea what Ashley might request of her, and she certainly didn't want to overstep too many bounds on her first official day as part of the Chandler family.

"That's fair, I suppose," Ashley mumbled to herself more than to Rachel. Then she continued on, her voice growing a bit in strength. "It's about what Sammy asked you downstairs earlier, about being our mom now. I want that, too, but I – I'm not sure if I'm ready to call you 'Mom' just yet. Is, is that all right?" Timidity had returned to her timbre, and the uncertainty in Ashley's eyes nearly broke Rachel's heart. Knowing that she'd have to tread lightly, Rachel decided to simply do exactly as she'd vowed before Ashley asked her question. She was honest with her.

"Ashley, sweetheart, I don't want you to ever feel pressured to call me 'Mom.' I'm not here to try and take your mother's place, and I don't want you to ever feel that you can't talk about her or share your memories of her and your father with me or Sam or anyone at all. I am going to be part of your life, and I do love you and Sam very much. I meant what I told you earlier; I hope that one day you'll come to love me, and none of that will change, even if you only refer to me as Rachel for the rest of your life." When Ashley engulfed Rachel in a hug, nearly knocking the breath out of Rachel, she knew that she'd done the right thing. Clinging tightly to the armful of pre-teen girl, Rachel patted Ashley's back, allowing the young girl to cry out her emotions. Rachel was a little surprised to find that sharing her story with Ashley had begun to heal over some of her own emotional scar tissue. She'd already shared everything with Tom, but telling it to someone whom she already viewed as her child had brought healing of a different kind. And as she lay there comforting Ashley, Rachel would later swear that she felt the ghost of her mother's kiss on cheek and heard her voice in the quietness of the room.

"Well done, my girl."


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note –_

 _This little journey has finally come to an end. Season 3 premieres in a couple of days, and regardless of the outcome of Rachel's fate, I truly believe we're in for an epic adventure. I fell in love with this show as soon as I watched the first episode, and I fell in love with the fandom just as fast. I've become acquainted with some pretty amazing ladies, just through our mutual adoration of a show and its characters, and for that alone, I'm thankful. To all of you who have stuck with me throughout this story, who have read it, reviewed it, followed it and marked it as a favorite, thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. I appreciate each and every one of you. For my own personal reasons, I wanted to wrap up this tale before Season 3 began, so I hope that you will enjoy the outcome. I really am looking forward to Season 3, and hopefully with it will come inspiration for all of us to write more stories._

 _In closing, I have just a few creative notes. First, the character of Maria Donato is mine, and if you're looking for a physical comparison, as she began to take shape in my mind, she began to look shockingly similar to one Lana Parrilla (any Evil Regals out there? All hail the Queen!), and I just went with it. Let's face it – the woman is so incredible that even fictional OC's want to look like her! Second, I made up names for Mike's daughters. I couldn't remember a name reference to them in the show, and though I did attempt a search, it proved futile, and Carly and Caroline came on the scene. Third, since seems to not want to take my bold or italic text, I've tried to block off the section that is Rachel's memory. It makes me feel better. Finally, the last little bit is reference back to the part of the song I used for the title of Chapter 2, I Choose You by Sara Bareilles._

 _Oh, yeah, and I don't own a single thing. The Last Ship, despite my fervent wishes to the contrary, is still the exclusive property of a whole bunch of people who are not me. Thank you once again for reading, and I truly hope you enjoy the finale._

 _XOXO,_

 _Kate_

 _Chapter 10_

 _Rachel's office, three months later…_

Rachel glanced at the clock on her screen and sighed heavily as she shut her laptop. _6:15 p.m._ Her interns had been faithfully uploading the data sent to them by the clinics along the _Mississippi_ for the last several weeks, and though entirely pleased with the progress of the rapidly-spreading cure, Rachel was certain that any more gazing at her computer screen would result in irrevocable damage to her eyes. At the very least, she'd trigger another migraine, and since Claire had taken to sleeping for six hour stretches between 10:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m. for five nights running, Rachel wasn't going to risk being anything beyond tired when she and Tom finally locked the door on their bedroom later that night. Besides, she was due at the opening of Tex's new bar. The grand opening was tonight, and she was supposed to meet Tom there along with the children. For one night only, the bar would cater to the under 21 crowd, making the evening more a family event. Bertrise and Kat had come up with a series of games and activities to occupy the younger set which would hopefully allow for their parents to enjoy a drink or two and some adult conversation.

Sliding her laptop into its case, Rachel began gathering the rest of her belongings to take home. She found a sticky note next to her desk phone reminding her of Claire's appointment the following day with her pediatrician. Dr. Maria Donato had been a godsend, and she, along with Sasha Cooper, had quickly become the closest female friends that Rachel had ever known. Originally born in New York City to a Sicilian father and a Spanish mother, Maria had done her undergrad work at Johns Hopkins and spent her residency at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital. She'd just opened her pediatrics practice in St. Louis when the Red Flu had taken hold, but through good old, fashioned common sense and some careful quarantine procedures, the young doctor had managed to stay healthy until the _James_ had brought the cure to St. Louis. Having been introduced to the woman through Tex, of all people, Rachel had taken an instant liking to her. She'd given Claire her first check-up at the ripe old age of two weeks, the day following the now rather infamous night of the Chinese Dinner Party, as Sasha had dubbed that evening.

Lost in thought, Rachel dropped into her chair, recalling the events of that night and the days that had led up to it. She highly doubted that she'd ever forget the two weeks after Tom had brought her home from St. Paul. Having spent that first afternoon with their children, she and Tom had taken an hour for themselves to shower and change clothes before arriving back at Headquarters to meet with Sasha and the others. Closing her eyes, Rachel allowed herself to remember.

 _Entering the Old Courthouse hand in hand, Tom and Rachel were greeted by a heavily pregnant Kara Foster, who, after capturing Rachel in a bone-crushing hug, led them down to the basement level. Several rooms had been set up as what amounted to holding cells, and as Kara directed them to the first door on the left of the hallway, Rachel was reminded of the interrogation rooms that she'd scene on random police shows over the years._

 _A one-way mirror took up the majority of one wall, and it was the scene on the other side that captivated Rachel's attention. She could hear Kara talking to Tom, but the content of their conversation escaped her. On the other side of the mirror, a table had been placed in the middle of the room, bolted to the floor. Michael was seated at the table, hands cuffed in front of him and bound to the table. Lt. Danny Green stood against the outer wall, arms crossed over his chest, green eyes as cold as jade, glaring daggers at Rachel's erstwhile lover. Captain Sasha Cooper hovered directly over Michael, talking to him. She didn't appear to be yelling based on her facial expression, but judging by the agony on Michael's face Rachel doubted that Sasha's words were bringing him any comfort. In all the time she'd spent with Michael, Rachel had never seen him look so absolutely terrified, and that included the one time in India when they'd nearly been eaten by the tigers that Michael had come to photograph. They'd literally run for their lives, escaping from their camp site with nothing more than Michael's camera and his satellite phone. Fortunately, they'd stumbled into a couple of game wardens who'd been tracking poachers. The wardens had dropped them off at an inn in Jodphur where they'd spent the next three days drinking, making love and laughing about their sheer, dumb luck._

 _Even though Rachel knew she wasn't in love with Michael any longer, her heart still grieved the loss of the man with whom she'd shared that time with in India. Without thought her hand rose to the glass, her eyes searching the image of the man in front of her and trying to merge it with the one residing in her memories, just as Sasha brought her hand down on top of the table, and though Rachel couldn't hear the resounding crack, Michael jerked reflexively, pulling against the cuffs, and startling Rachel. She gasped, drawing Tom's attention._

" _Rach, you okay?" he asked taking a step towards her. Kara, sensing that her part of the interaction was drawing to a close asked," Sir, will there be anything else?"_

 _"No thank you, Foster, that will be all." Tom then turned to Rachel, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. He pulled her against his chest, sliding one arm around her to hold her while he touched a small button next to the mirror that Rachel had failed to notice. "We'll be able to hear them, but they can't hear us," he offered in explanation._

 _"It wasn't like_ what _, Michael?" Sasha's voice rang out through the silence that had settled over Rachel and Tom. "Did you really think that your new friends in the Chinese government were just going to ask Rachel a few nice questions and then let both of you go? Did you think this was going to turn into some kind of human interest piece that you could report on later? Were you going to tell the world how benevolent the new ruling power in China is, how they are so concerned for their citizens that they paid to have Rachel Scott kidnapped so they could hold her hostage and force her to perform their sick and twisted experiments? Did you think that after you did their dirty work for them, they would, what, just let you go? Let you return to America and live out the rest of your days? Oh, wait, don't tell me," Sasha chuckled derisively. "You thought they'd let you_ stay _with Rachel, didn't you?"_

 _Michael's head lifted from his arms, but he didn't dare meet Sasha's gaze, too ashamed to make direct contact. "They promised me that they wouldn't hurt her." He sounded as miserable as he looked. Sasha stared at him, clearly disgusted with him, but she directed her comments to Danny._

 _"Lt. Green, would you mind enlightening Mr. Crain as to just who his new best friend, President Li, actually is?"_

 _"Yes, ma'am," Danny replied and stalked over to the table. He grabbed a dossier that was resting on the table and opened it to a stack of photographs. He leafed through them before pulling one out and placing it in front of Michael. Neither Tom nor Rachel could see the photo, but Danny gave a very vivid description. "This," he stated, tapping the photo for emphasis. "Is a mass grave that was found on the outskirts of Beijing. President Li ordered the execution of every hospital patient over the age of 65; so the ones who weren't taken out by the Red Flu instead met their end with a firing squad. Now this one here, this one is really special, Mikey, I think you're going to want to see this one," Danny's tone was cruel, and Rachel blanched visibly even though it wasn't directed at her at all._

 _"Your buddy Li sent his minions into the mountain villages to round up every girl over the age of 9. See, the remote villages faired a little better with the virus, due to limited exposure. Li's scientists informed him of the possibility that some of them might even have a natural immunity, and Li thought it'd be a great idea to start his own special fertility clinic with these little girls. After all, we gotta rebuild the world's population, right? He rounded up hundreds of them and had them set up in camps under guard. Tell me, Mikey, what do you think happened to these ones here? They were too young, their bodies too under-developed for the endless gang rapes they endured from their guards. They died! They were literally raped to death at the order of the mad man that you were going to willingly hand over your girlfriend to!" Danny shouted._

 _Michael broke down then, not that Rachel could blame him in the slightest. "I didn't know any of that!" he shouted back at Danny, attempting to rise to his feet. Sasha brought her hand down on his shoulder, shoving him roughly back into his seat. "Jesus Christ," he moaned looking at the pictures spread out in front of him. "I just, I just wanted a way to get Rachel to safety," he babbled on, seemingly not aware of what he was saying. "Li – his, his intelligence people – they told me that they'd intercepted a transmission from the_ James. _I'd told them about Rachel, when things started getting really bad there. As long as I took the pictures that they wanted, the ones that made Li look good, you know, helping old ladies and feeding little kids in the orphanages, that kind of PR shit, they kept me safe from the virus and fed. They asked all the time if I'd heard from her, if I knew of any way to get in touch with her, to get a message to her. Then they told me that Rachel had, had killed someone on the ship and that the Captain was going to turn her over to the authorities. They told me that Rachel would most likely be executed for what she'd done. They promised me safe passage to the States and then safe passage back to China if I could get to Rachel. I thought that if I could get to her, get her out of the country, that I could save her," he lamented, openly weeping now. "You have to believe me! Rachel! Rachel, are you out there? Look, you have to believe me, I swear!"_

 _From the safety of the glass, Rachel cried out, turning into Tom's open arms. She didn't want to hear any more. But she knew she had to. "Tom, how in bloody hell did the Chinese get wind of what happened with Sorenson?"_

 _"I don't know, sweetheart, but it doesn't matter now. You know that, don't you?" Tom tenderly raised her head so he could look into her eyes. "All of that is in the past, baby, and Rachel – I – Christ Almighty, honey, I – you have to know that I'd never, ever, have let you face any kind of retribution for killing that sick son of a bitch. Even if Michener hadn't pardoned you, I'd have made sure that any judge or jury understood the corner I'd backed you into. I wouldn't have let you stand alone." Rachel closed her eyes briefly, bringing her lips to Tom's in a crushing, bruising kiss._

 _"I know, love, I know," she whispered fervently as she pulled away. "I'm not worried about any of that. You and I have made our peace, and that's all I care about. But I would like to know how that bit of information managed to travel halfway around the world and land in the lap of a man like Li."_

 _"We'll get to the bottom of it, Rach. Either we have a leak, which I hope to God isn't the case, or more likely, it was picked up in some of the immune chatter. Those bastards were steps ahead of us the whole damn time. The Chinese probably picked up on their chatter just like we did. Add in their knowledge of Crain's connection to you, and they had an instant patsy."_

 _Groaning in frustration, Rachel moved out of Tom's arms and went to the door. Her back to Tom, she said quietly, "I need to talk to Michael." Tom, though it pained him to agree to such a thing, stepped behind her and steadied her with a hand on the small of her back._

 _"I know, baby, but I'll be right there the whole time. I'm not going to leave you alone with him, even if he is in handcuffs."_

 _Rachel nodded swiftly. "Right, then, let's get on with it, shall we?" Rachel strode into the other room, back ramrod straight and her head held high. If Green or Cooper were surprised at her appearance, they were too well-trained to show it. Michael, on the other hand, had no such qualms._

 _"Rachel!" he exclaimed in relief. "Oh, thank God you're all right! They said you wanted to see me, that you wanted to talk, and then when I got here, they just ambushed me," he finished darkly, glowering openly at Tom as he followed Rachel inside._

 _Rachel did not address Michael. Instead, she looked to Sasha. "Captain, would you mind removing Michael's handcuffs?" Sasha looked sharply at Tom for confirmation, who nodded after a beat. Danny's hand went to his sidearm, but he didn't remove the Sig from his holster just yet. As soon as Sasha had Michael out of the cuffs, the man rose slowly, his gaze studying the three military officials apprehensively before settling at last on Rachel. Rachel motioned for Sasha to step back and when the other woman moved away to stand next to Tom, Rachel walked over to Michael, her right hand fisted and punched him squarely in the nose._

 _"Ow! Shit, Rachel, what the hell?" Michael cried out, clutching his hands over his throbbing face. Tom's mouth lifted briefly in a self-satisfied smirk before he schooled his features once more, trusting that Rachel had a reason for what she did._

 _"That's for planning to kidnap me, you bloody git!" Rachel shouted. "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Michael, what in blue blazes possessed you to do something so incredibly stupid? Are you out of your mind?"_

 _"Rachel, listen to me, please," Michael begged as moved towards Rachel. He made a motion as if to take her in his arms, but Rachel quickly cut him off at the pass._

 _"Don't you dare come any closer, Michael," the menacing tone of her voice stopped him in his tracks. "Were you actually going to go through with it?" She watched him closely; even with white hot fury rushing in her veins, there was still a small part of her that wanted to believe that Michael would never have betrayed her in such a manner. Shamefaced, Michael nodded his head once, and any good will Rachel held for him evaporated like mist. "Then we have nothing more to say to one another." Stepping back to Tom, she was relieved when his arm circled her waist, squeezing her hip in reassurance. She looked over her shoulder, and their eyes met, an entire conversation passing in one glance. He was there, in her corner; he had her back, always, and no harm would befall her, not from the Chinese or Michael or anyone else foolhardy enough to raise a hand against her._

 _The exchange did not go unnoticed by Michael, who sneered at the couple in front of him. "Oh, now I understand," he mumbled sardonically. "Hey, Rach, how long did you wait until you fell into the sack with the admiral? I mean, it only took me a few hours and a couple of drinks before I had you on your back. Did you even wait until you got the Artic or were you screwing his brains out before you left Norfolk?"_

 _In a flash of movement, Tom put Rachel behind him and had Michael pinned to the wall, forearm pressed against the other man's neck. One change in pressure and Tom would crush the man's throat, and by the fear in his eyes, Michael was well aware of the precarious position in which he found himself._

 _"I'm going to talk now and you're going to listen," Tom spoke calmly in spite of the fact that Rachel knew he'd like nothing more than to rip Michael Crain limb from limb. "The only reason you're still drawing breath is because I follow a higher code of honor than your puerile brain will ever comprehend. You are the worst kind of human, Mr. Crain. You're nothing more than a coward, and cowards are only ever out for themselves, regardless of the consequences to those around them. You see, I know all about you and the relationship you had with Rachel. Oh, that surprises you?" Tom asked given the stunned look that crossed Michael's face. "I can see why it might since Rachel never felt secure enough in her relationship with you to completely open up, but she and I don't have that problem. So, yes, I know all about how you abandoned her to chase your little story. I know how she pleaded with you to stay put, how she begged you to believe her when she thought the virus was mutating and that it was far more dangerous than other people thought. But you took off anyway, didn't you? You didn't believe her – you didn't believe_ in _her, and that was the worst mistake you ever made._

 _"Now, the way I see things, and I really think by the time we're done that you'll see them the same way I do, you have two choices. The first is that I can put you in a cell and forget that you ever existed, at least until the President decides to try you for treason. The second option still involves you sitting in a cell, but since you'll be helping us with our little problem with the Chinese, you'll get out early for good behavior. Tell me, Mr. Crain, which option sounds like the best one to you?"_

 _Michael's eyes cut over Tom's shoulder to Rachel, and she made no attempt to hide the anger and pain that she felt from his actions. Something in her expression must have gotten through to him because he slowly turned his attention back to Tom. "The second one; I think that definitely sounds like the more attractive choice."_

 _"Congratulations, Mr. Crain," Tom told him, finally dropping his arm from the other man's neck. "You're officially smarter than you look."_

 _Things progressed quite quickly after that. Sasha's contacts came through with flying colors, and almost before Rachel realized it, two weeks had passed and she found herself getting ready for the state dinner that Michener was hosting in "honor" of their guest, the Chinese President. The dinner was to be held at the country club of St. Louis's most prestigious golf course. The country club was actually an antebellum home that had been remodeled and refurbished to serve as the hub of the elite and privileged in St. Louis. Allison Shaw, Michener's tough-as-nails Chief of Staff, had immediately commandeered the country club as soon as she'd discovered it. With its hardwood floors, cathedral ceilings and Grecian columns, it was as close to having a White House as the new administration would ever get. Appearance, as Allison had pointed out, was, in fact, everything, which was why Allison had insisted that Rachel acquire the most incredible dress that she could possibly find. Thanks to her new friend, Maria, Rachel arrived at the country club wearing a red satin evening gown, which based on Tom's reaction as he'd waited at the bottom of the stairs for her in his Dress Whites, certainly met Allison's criteria. The gown was divine, wrapping Rachel in all the right places, and its blood red color brought out the smattering of pale freckles dusted across her bare shoulders._

 _Walking in on Tom's arm, Rachel hoped that she looked more confident than she felt. She mingled with the people she knew and took note of the armed men who made up Michener's Secret Service. The Chinese delegation would be arriving shortly, according to Tom, and from there, it was a matter of enacting Sasha's brilliantly simple, albeit dangerous, plan._

 _The plan really was simple in its design. It seemed that not all of President Li's cabinet members were happy with either the man or his policies. They didn't want trouble with the Americans, and they were willing to do whatever was necessary if America would help them out with their unwanted dictator. During the dinner, Tom was to make certain that Rachel was always in Li's line of sight. Rachel was supposed to talk to him about the virus and the cure, offering her help and expertise in establishing his labs. A commotion would then arise outside the dining room in the form of Danny Green and Matthew Byers, one of Tom's new recruits, who would burst in, claiming to have apprehended a man who was attempting to kidnap Rachel. They would then drag the man – Michael Crain – into the dining room, where he would accuse President Li and his number one lieutenant, Da Zhang, of perpetrating the entire scheme._

 _Things would go one of two ways at that point – Li, proclaiming outrage over such a preposterous theory, would disavow any association with Michael and take Michener up on his offer of hospitality and safe return to China in exchange for Li allowing the Americans to "deal" with Michael Crain as they saw fit, thereby allowing Li to maintain his cover of innocence and get back to his country looking no worse the wear for his actual involvement in the matter. This was certainly the outcome that Rachel hoped for. But just in case the rumors of Li being a stark raving, megalomaniacal lunatic were true, then Rachel was to haul ass to the panic room that had been installed for the occasion and remain there until Tom came to get her._

Sitting in the peace and safety of her office now, Rachel was extremely grateful that she'd never had to make use of that panic room. President Li, while perhaps a little more unstable than Rachel personally found acceptable in a world leader, was not suicidal and had recognized a way out of what might have been, for him at least, a very deadly situation, and had quickly denied the accusations. The man had even gone so far as to suggest that Michael was a member of the same immune faction that had made the first attempt on Rachel's life months before. Lt. Zhang had picked up on the web of deflection his leader was spinning and added that he'd heard rumors in his travels from China that the attack on the civilians in St. Paul had been nothing more than a poorly executed plan on the part of the immunes to try and kill Rachel again.

Part of that statement had unfortunately been true, but there were a few facts that Zhang had left out of his account of the "rumors." Slattery and the crew of the _James_ had caught up with the immunes who orchestrated the attack on St. Paul, and during the interrogation of the ringleader, the man had confessed to Mike that they'd been hired to stage the attack by none other than two Chinese nationals who claimed to be working at the behest of Lt. Da Zhang. When Tom had dropped that little bombshell and confidently offered proof of the recorded conversations between Zhang, the two nationals and the Immune leader, Li had turned on his lieutenant faster than Rachel would have ever dreamed possible. He'd offered up Zhang on the spot to what he had referred to as "swift American justice," begged Rachel's forgiveness for the actions of his trusted lieutenant and vowed his loyalty to Michener as a friend and ally of the United States. And though Rachel knew in her heart that Tom would have liked nothing more than to put a bullet in Li's brain for the atrocities the man had committed against his own people, in the end, they could do nothing more than pack him off back to China with copies of Rachel's research and doses of the cure. Michael had been freed and had left St. Louis, and Rachel knew she'd more than likely never see him again, a fact that didn't bother her in the slightest. The _James_ had made port a week ago, and Mike was planning on leaving to search for his wife and daughters in the morning. The celebration tonight at Tex's was twofold – the opening of the bar and to wish Mike well on his journey. Rachel hoped with all her heart that things would work out for Mike; no one deserved a happy ending more than the new Captain of the _Nathan James._

Shaking off the last of her little stroll down Memory Lane, Rachel stood. She stretched her arms over her head, relishing in the crack of her spine as some of the kinks worked themselves out. Shouldering her bag and turning out the overhead light in her office, she made her way to the door and nearly walked into Maria Donato.

"There you are!" Maria exclaimed as she grabbed onto Rachel's shoulders to right her balance. "I saw the lights as I was walking by and thought you'd still be here."

"Guilty as charged," Rachel admitted with a grin. "But as you can see, I was just leaving." Rachel adjusted her grip on her laptop bag and looped her free arm around Maria's shoulders as they exited the lab together. Having the same height as her new best friend certainly had its advantages. Once outside, Rachel locked the door behind them and the two women headed towards the bar.

"You're going to have to explain to me again where Tex came up with the name for this place," Rachel said as they walked, and Maria gave a short laugh.

"I've told you a dozen times, Rach, it's from a country song." The way Maria said "country," it sounded like she was referencing a particularly nasty childhood illness and Rachel said as much.

"Well, dear, it's not a genre that has ever appealed to me personally, but as you know, we do put up with strange things where our men are concerned, do we not?"

"Without fail, Maria," Rachel grinned in answer. "Do you think our men are aware that we would do damn near about anything for them?"

"I imagine they've caught on by this time, yes," Rachel commented. Nothing had pleased her more upon her return to St. Louis than when Tex had introduced her to Maria. He'd met Maria only a week after Rachel had first left, and from the way both of them described it, it truly was love at first sight. They were polar opposites, but they brought at the best in each other, and Maria and Kat had already grown very close. "Now, this song, what is it, again?"

"It's by the Oak Ridge Boys, the 'Y'all Come Back Saloon.' I'm sure Tex will be playing it frequently tonight, at least until Kat manages to wrestle the remote away from him," she joked.

The two women continued walking, enjoying the cool evening and chatting quietly together. Sometimes Rachel felt that she and Maria had known one another their entire lives, rather than the few months they'd actually been acquainted. But she was quickly learning that when she allowed herself to be open with people, the bonds she formed were stronger and deeper than any she'd ever experienced. They'd nearly reached the bar when a car pulled up alongside them. The car stopped, and a woman climbed out of the driver's seat, while two girls who looked to be in their teens exited the backseat.

Rachel and Maria looked at one another swiftly; then they turned as one to the new arrivals, trying to assess the threat level, if any. The other woman, as if sensing their apprehension, held up her hands, palms out toward Rachel and Maria.

"Excuse me, but is one of you Dr. Scott?"

Rachel and Maria exchanged another look before Rachel answered. "I'm Dr. Scott. Do you need help?" she offered, thinking that perhaps they were in need of the cure.

The other woman broke into a blinding smile before muttering to herself, "Oh, thank God!" Then she turned to the girls, who based on looks alone, had to be the woman's daughters. "Girls, come here. This is the woman who developed the vaccine your father left us." She motioned the girls forward, and finally the older of the two stepped up shyly, offering her hand to Rachel. Rachel took it, smiling kindly at the girl. She'd more or less gotten used to this from people as they found out who she was. At any rate, it was infinitely better than people shooting at her, or so Maria had pointed out one night when Rachel had expressed how uncomfortable she'd found her status as the world's "savior." Rachel had changed her tune immediately.

"What's your name, love?" Rachel prodded gently. She could tell that all three were exhausted, and from the looks of their car, they appeared to have been traveling for a while. Her question spurred the mother into action, and she, too, stepped up to Rachel, but instead of offering a handshake, the woman pulled Rachel into a hug. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel could see Maria trying to hide a grin.

Pulling back after a few seconds, the woman dropped her arms and had the grace to look a bit embarrassed over her behavior. "I'm so sorry! You must think I'm crazy, stopping you in the middle of the street like this."

"Oh, she's used to it, I assure you," Maria interjected, her beautiful smile letting the others know she was only kidding. "Be glad you caught her on a Friday night. Monday's are an absolute nightmare. People line the sidewalks for a good mile!"

"Oh, shut up, you," Rachel swatted playfully at Maria. "Ignore my friend, please, and tell me your names."

"Well, I'm Christine Slattery," the woman began, but Rachel interrupted her at once.

"Slattery? As in Mike Slattery?" Rachel asked almost afraid to believe the woman could be Mike's missing wife.

"Yes, Mike's my husband," Christine answered. "And these are our daughters, Carly and Caroline. Oompf." Christine grunted as Rachel wrapped the woman in huge hug, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Oh my God!" Rachel exclaimed. "Mike was going to leave tomorrow to go look for you three. Any now you're here! Oh my God!"

Christine laughed as well. "We've been trying to get here for months. We'd heard about the _James_ being away, but I knew our best bet was to get here and get to Tom Chandler. But then the closer we got, the more we heard about 'the Doc and the Admiral,' and then we saw you walking down the street and I thought I recognized you from the video of you healing that little girl in Louisiana."

"Well, we're certainly glad you did!" Maria gushed, knowing that Rachel, for all the strides she'd made with her people skills, still got overwhelmed at times. She linked one arm through Christine's and one through Rachel's and turned them back towards the bar, motioning with her head for the girls to follow them. "We're on our way to my boyfriend's bar for a little opening night celebration. Mike will be there with Tom, and he will be absolutely over the moon to see you all!"

Rachel, thankful for her friend taking charge, chimed in, "Oh, yes, your timing is spot on! It couldn't be more perfect if you'd planned it. Just lock your car and leave it here. I assure you no one will bother it. Come along, it's not far now," she promised. Just a few moments later, they arrived at the Y'all Come Back Saloon where, as Maria had predicted, the song from whence the bar took its name was blaring out over the speakers through the open door. Tex was behind the bar, but he noticed them immediately and stepped out from behind it to grab his girl in his arms.

"Hey, baby! I shoulda figured you and Rach would end up together. I'm starting to think Tom and me should be worried you two are gonna ditch us one day for each other." He hushed when Maria kissed him, though he did laugh into her mouth.

"Don't worry, honey, if that ever happens, we'll probably take pity on you two enough to let you watch," Maria smirked at him, a wicked gleam in warm chocolate eyes. To illustrate her point, she wrapped an arm around Rachel and yanked her over. Rachel played along long enough to press a smacking kiss to Maria's cheek and watch as Tex clapped his hand over his chest in mock surprise.

"Y'all are gonna be the death of this old boy!" he chided them, grinning the whole time. Then he noticed Christine and her girls. "Now where are my manners? Who are these three lovely ladies?" He jumped up and shook Christine's hand. "I'm Tex Nolan, ma'am, and the owner of this fine establishment. Welcome to the Y'all Come Back Saloon." He finished with a little bow and a kiss to Christine's hand, causing her to laugh out loud.

Mike, over in the back corner throwing darts with Tom and Wolf, heard the sound, and his head popped up, his eyes immediately landing on the group by the front door. Tex stepped back at just that moment, and Mike drank in the sight of his wife and daughters. Almost afraid to believe his own eyes, he bellowed his wife's name at the top of his lungs. At the sound of her husband's voice, Christine sought him out, and she immediately burst into an ecstatic smile.

"Christine!" Mike called again, and the crowd parted instantly so that Mike could get to his wife. He snatched her up into his embrace, openly weeping into her hair. Christine was crying, too, muttering apologies in between declarations of love. The bar fell silent; Tex killed the music and all eyes were on the reunited couple. Carly and Caroline reacted first, moving as a single unit to wrap their arms around their parents. Mike stretched one of his arms out, pulling his girls between himself and his wife.

"My baby girls," he mumbled. "I missed you, sweethearts, so much!" As the family reacquainted themselves, Rachel gravitated naturally to Tom, molding herself to his side.

"I don't even want to begin to guess how you pulled this off," Tom murmured in Rachel's ear. Before she could answer, Sam and Ashley, holding Claire, appeared from the other room, the sudden commotion having drawn the attention of the children.

"Dad, is that Aunt Christine?" Ashley asked placing her baby sister into Rachel's outstretched arms.

"Yes, Pumpkin, Rachel and your Aunt Maria brought them here," Tom answered, smiling fondly over at his old friends across the room.

"How'd you do that, Momma?" Sam asked turning wide eyes to Rachel, and her heart fluttered, just like it had ever since the first time the little boy had referred to her as his mother. Ashley still bounced back and forth between "Mom" and "Rachel," but Rachel honestly didn't mind. She felt Ashley was her daughter regardless of how the young girl addressed her.

"I was just in the right place at the right time, sweetheart," Rachel told her son. Then she leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead, pleased when he cuddled into her side for a brief moment. Ashley took her little brother's hand when he let go of their mother and tugged him back towards the other room.

"Come on, Sammy, let's got finish our game, okay?" She knew her parents would want to talk with her Uncle and Aunt, and she instinctively knew that things would go easier if she and Sam stayed out of sight. "Mom, do you want us to take Claire, too?"

Rachel shook her head. "I think I'll keep her with us for now, love, thank you." When their older children had gone, Tom kept his arm around Rachel and the baby and led them over to Mike and Christine. He hugged his old friend tightly in greeting, knowing what a true miracle it was that Christine and the girls had survived, much less been reunited with Mike.

"I'm so sorry about Darien," Christine told him, though her eyes darted briefly to Rachel while she spoke. "Mike told me about her death in the letter he left along with the vaccines."

"It was hard, especially on the kids," Tom said. "But things are better now," he finished unable to prevent the smile that overtook his features as he looked down at Rachel and Claire.

"So I see," Christine commented with a suddenly hesitant smile. Then she reached out and traced her hand over Claire's tiny fist, currently knotted in her mother's shirt. "Who is this little beauty?"

"This is our daughter, Claire," Rachel told her. "She's three months old." Rachel then quickly went onto explain the circumstances of Claire's birth, and Christine visibly relaxed when Rachel's story confirmed her belief that never in a million years would Tom Chandler have betrayed his marriage vows. From what she'd seen thus far of Rachel Scott, Christine suspected that Rachel would have never stood for such behavior, had Tom stepped out of line.

"Well, look, why don't we all sit down and grab something to eat?" Tom suggested. "Tex has a kitchen full of cooks that are just itching to try out their recipes on us." Mike and Christine exchanged a look, and it didn't take a genius to know that they weren't going to accept the invitation.

"Actually, I think we'd like to take off," Mike said. He never took his eyes from his wife's face. Then, he closed his eyes, groaning in frustration. "Damn it! I was planning on leaving in the morning to look for you so I didn't bother to secure any housing. I've been rooming with Wolf in the dorms."

"Oh, well, I'm sure we can find something, Mike, don't worry," Christine assured him. "All that matters is that we're together."

"Or you could let a friend help you out," Sasha stated as she made her way over to the little group. She offered her hand Christine. "Captain Sasha Cooper, Mrs. Slattery. I'm very pleased to meet you, and if you don't mind my interruption, I think that you'll be pretty happy to have met me after you hear my offer," Sasha finished with a laugh. Maria and Tex wandered over, too, since what Sasha was about to propose involved them as well, to a lesser degree. The three had been discussing the solution to the Slattery's housing issue as soon as Tex had brought it up.

"You met Maria earlier, right?" Sasha gestured over her shoulder in Maria's direction and waited for Christine to nod. "See, I've been staying at her house ever since she moved in with Tex."

"It's a townhouse so it isn't huge," Maria offered from her perch on Tex's lap. "But it does have two bedrooms and a bath and half. I think you four would be comfortable there, and you're more than welcome to stay as long as you want."

"Oh, well, that's very generous – thank you," Christine trailed off moved to tears at the kindness that these perfect strangers w ere extending to her family. Squeezing his wife tightly, Mike reiterated her thanks.

"But what about you, Cooper?" he asked. "Casa Nolan is pretty full, isn't it?"

"Eh, don't worry about me, Slattery," Sasha flashed a mischievous grin at the group as a whole before her eyes darted to Wolf and Burke, who happened to be walking by. "Hey, boys," she called as she fell in step with them. "It's your lucky night. One of you will get the great honor of offering me a place to lay my pretty little head tonight." With a final wink at Mike, she tossed him the keys to Maria's house and sauntered off with Burke and Wolf, both of whom were already clearly captivated with the dark haired beauty between them.

"Wow, she's certainly…something, isn't she?" Christine muttered, giggling a little at the other woman's antics.

"Sasha takes some getting used to, but she definitely grows on you after a while," Rachel assured her.

"Well, looks like we've got a place to call home for a while," Mike said before turning to Maria and Tex. "Thank you for this, Maria. We really appreciate it."

Maria smiled warmly. "I'm happy to help, Mike," she assured him. "Why don't you go settle your family, and Christine, if you're feeling up to it tomorrow afternoon, perhaps you'd like to join Rachel and me for a late lunch?"

The whole idea sounded like heaven on earth to Christine and she told them as much before they said their goodbyes and headed back to their car. When they'd gone, Rachel moved to the open bar stool beside Tex and Maria, adjusting her hold on Claire, who had begun to fuss, suddenly less than enthralled with her mother's shirt. Knowing what was coming, Rachel handed her child off to her friend.

"That's it, sweetheart," Maria cooed to the baby. "You just wanted your Aunty Ria, didn't you?" She grinned in triumph when the baby immediately settled.

Rachel narrowed her eyes playfully at her infant daughter. "Traitor," she joked as the others laughed. "Preferring the company of the woman who gives you shots almost every time she sees you rather than your own Mum; I've never been so insulted." Claire's only response was to grin at her mother's grumblings. Rachel leaned down and kissed Claire's downy head. "Cheeky little duck, aren't you, my darling?"

"She is her mother's daughter," Tom commented sliding his arms around Rachel's waist. Meanwhile, Tex reached behind the bar and pulled out a special bottle he'd been saving. Predictably, Tom's eyes widened when he saw the label.

"Yes, sir," Tex said to Tom as he fished out four shot glasses from the stack on the bar. "I found this little baby a couple of months ago, and I knew I wanted to save it for tonight. This here might very well be the last bottle of Jack Daniel's Single Barrel this side of the Mississippi. 100 proof, too." He poured out four shots, doling three of them out to Tom, Rachel and Maria. He lifted his glass and the others mirrored his actions.

"I think a toast is in order," Tex began. He looked first at Maria, the love he held for the raven-haired pediatrician evident in his eyes. "To the people who love us, who make our lives better because they are a part of us, in every way." Then he looked at Tom and Rachel. "And to the friends who have become family. In this new world that we're building, I can't think of anyone who I'd rather have my side."

"Well said, my friend," Rachel echoed and the foursome tossed back their shots. The whiskey burned, but it was a pleasant sensation, and Rachel rather enjoyed the little flame of warmth that sprung up in her belly. She looked around the bar; most of the people gathered there, Rachel considered friends if not downright family, just as Tex had said. Certainly, she regarded Tex and Maria as extensions of the family she'd created with Tom. Not just them, either; she saw Danny and Kara Green walking out of the other room where the children were playing, little Frankie held securely by his father. Sasha was playing darts with Wolf and Burke and judging by the sound of her raucous laughter, no doubt cooking up some devilish scheme that she'd share the gory details with Rachel and Maria later. She studied her youngest child for a moment, now blissfully sleeping in her Aunty Ria's lap while Tex and Maria exchanged whispered conversation, completely absorbed in one another. Turning in Tom's arms, she wound hers around him completely, resting her head against his chest and allowed the comforting sound of his heartbeat to lull her for a few moments.

"Penny for your thoughts," Tom spoke quietly, his lips ghosting across her hair. Rachel raised her head, then, smiling serenely at the man who had stolen her heart while the world had been burning down around them.

"I'll give them to you for free, my love," Rachel told him. A deep and abiding contentment had risen up from within her soul, and it was all due to the amazing man in her arms. "You changed my life, Tom, that night you gave me your love letter. In the short time we've been together, you've brought nothing but love and light into my life. I can try for the rest of my life, but I don't know that I can ever show you just how much I love you." Tom kissed her softly, slowly, savoring the feel of her mouth under his. When he pulled away, he looked deep into eyes, before smiling at her.

"I think I know of one way you can show me, sweetheart," he said and his eyes twinkled in merriment as he dropped to one knee in front her. Seemingly out of nowhere, he produced a black velvet box and held it up to her. "Marry me, Rach." The words were oh, so simple, yet so profound that tears sprang from her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Not trusting herself to speak, Rachel only nodded her head yes, and Tom opened the box and slid the three-stoned diamond band onto her ring finger. Then, he was on his feet with Rachel in his arms, swinging her around in victory.

"She said yes!" he crowed, and Ashley and Sam came running from the other room, pushing their way through the crowd to get to their parents.

"Momma, Momma!" Sammy shouted. He practically tackled Rachel, all skinny arms and delighted laughter. "I knew you'd say yes!"

"Oh, you did, did you? Am I to take it that this was a joint effort," Rachel asked, looking from Ashley and Sam to their father.

"Uh, maybe more like a coalition," Ashley said with a little giggle. "Uncle Tex and Aunt Maria were in on it, too." Rachel turned quickly to look at her friends, who were all smiles behind her.

"I knew, too!" Sasha called out from across the bar which started an avalanche of confessions and even more laughter as it turned out that the only person present who'd not known about the proposal beforehand was Rachel herself.

"Hey, what can I say?" Tom told her as he brought her left hand to his lips and kissed her finger where the ring sat prettily. "A wise man knows his limitations and isn't afraid to ask for help when he needs it."

Ashley sidled closer to Rachel, then, leaning in to hug her tightly. "I'm glad you said 'yes,' Rachel," she whispered. Rachel looked down at the young girl and gave her an affectionate squeeze in return.

"I love you, Ashley, very, very much," Rachel told her. She'd made a vow early on to herself to never let an opportunity go by without telling Ashley and Sam how much she loved them. Words were often as important as actions, in Rachel's opinion.

"I love you, too," Ashley said pulling away only to hug her father and tell him that she loved him. Claire began to wake in Maria's arms and cried out, drawing Rachel's attention to her baby.

"I think someone wants to be a part of the family hug," Maria said as she transferred the crying baby to Rachel. Claire quieted instantly, and Sammy patted his little sister's back while making goofy faces at her. Tom and Rachel looked at their children, all three of whom were happily basking in the love of their family. Then he saw his father from across the bar, smiling at them all and wiping tears from his eyes, and Tom knew that Jed was happy for them all, too. Rachel kissed each of her children in turn before sharing another, longer and more passionate one with their father, earning a series of wolf whistles and catcalls from their friends. Her life had certainly changed the night that Tom had shown up with his open love letter to her, Rachel thought, and she knew in her heart that tonight was just another line in the lifelong love letter that they'd begun writing together. And together, they were so much better than either of them could have ever been alone.


End file.
